


Happily Ever After

by The_Winter_Straw



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Death, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Fluff, Graphic Violence, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, References to Mind Control, Sexual Situations, collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-05-13 03:54:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 100
Words: 42,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19243318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Winter_Straw/pseuds/The_Winter_Straw
Summary: Sometimes. Maybe. Hopefully.Various/ReaderIn response to the "100 Drabbles of Randomness." challenge by Miseria1 on Lunaescence Archives.





	1. Insane [Thor Odinson]

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! Welcome to my second of three Avengers collections! This one was started very quickly after my first, in June of 2012, and finished just a little over a year later. By this time, I had gone back and watched all the lead in movies to the Avengers-but whether or not that improves these is really up to you.
> 
> I used a list of prompts for this one (obviously), and I also used a "random thingy chooser" generator to select which character I was writing for. I did try to keep it balanced, though, so you won't see five of Natasha in a row.

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?” 

The noise in the bar continued at its usual pace, but the grinning man in front of you allowed his grin to falter just a little. 

“I am confused,” he said, upon seeing your dour expression. “Have I upset you?” 

“Yes, you’ve upset me!” You flailed your arms at him, but still that did not seem to drive the point through his immortally thick skull. 

“How?” Thor asked. 

“Think,” you snarled. He looked to the sky, as if asking the Allfather for help in his quest. You folded your arms across your chest and tapped your toes–once, twice, five times. “That!” You gestured at the floor and stomped your foot. Slowly, Thor’s blue eyes found the lump of a man on the grimy floor. 

“Ah,” said Thor as he downed the last of his beer. “That.” 

“Are you insane?” you demanded. “You knocked out my date!” 

“No. He spoke ill of you and your mother,” he answered as he placed his cup back on the table. You opened your mouth to protest, but too late. Thor had already grabbed your arm and was lugging you toward the dance floor. “And now _I_ have a date.”


	2. Hypocrisy [Natasha Romanoff]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the "stories" in this collection will have several parts. This is one of those.

“This is the stupidest thing you have ever done,” Natasha announced from her perch on your S.H.I.E.L.D. issue bed. “Ever.”

“Oh? And why is that?” you asked, your voice slightly muffled by the door in between the two of you. As much as you liked Natasha, you still weren’t comfortable with her seeing you change. As if everyone could be as lucky as _her_ in the curves department.

“Have you _seen_ what you’re wearing?”

“Funnily enough,” you opened the bathroom door and wandered back into your bedroom, “I had to look at my clothes to put them on.”

Her eyebrows raised at your getup: fishnet stockings, body glitter smeared where body glitter shouldn’t be, hot pink thong flashing above the top of your too short black micro-mini-skirt. You paused to take in her disapproving expression before wandering to the closet to find a jacket.

“What?”

“That’s quite a getup.”

“I learned from the best.” You turned back, clutching some sparkly black material that probably wouldn’t keep you warm in a desert. Natasha frowned. “Oh, because _you_ never wear provocative things like this?”

“Only for my _job_.”

“This is a _job_ ,” you pointed out. “I have to start somewhere, Tasha. Come on, it’s not even super dangerous. I’m trying to break into a prostitution ring, not stop illegal trade of nuclear missiles. Yet.”

Natasha rubbed her face with both of her hands. “Ugh. Fine. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” you said, and opened the door. Then her easy acquiescence sunk in. You looked back toward her. “You’re following me the entire time, aren’t you?”

The innocent blink she gave you in return was all the answer you needed.


	3. Nothing Personal [Clint Barton]

Sometimes, even government agents got bored of sitting around. 

“Okay, [Name]. You’re up.” 

You twisted your head to glare at Clint. There was a _reason_ you were perched on the window seat and looking out at the rain instead of playing with rest of the agents on this mission–and it wasn’t because you were keeping a look out. He only grinned at your expression and went on: 

“Truth or dare?” 

“I already told you, Barton, I’m not playing Truth or Dare. We’re all adults here. Or at least _most_ of us are.” 

“Just answer this one and I’ll leave you alone.” 

Immediately, your eyes narrowed further with suspicion. If Clint was going to let you off this easily, something was up. In the hopes that perhaps he wanted some embarrassing piece of information on you, you hazarded a confident, "Dare." 

Wrong choice. You knew it at once. His grin became almost Cheshire as he leaned back against the couch. Before you could retract your choice, however, he named his dare: “I dare you to kiss me.” 

“W-What?” you choked as the other three agents chortled. You could feel a blush burning in your cheeks. Still, you met his eye. “ _Why?_ ” 

He shrugged carelessly. “Nothing personal. I just wanted to see if anything could crack that stone façade of yours.” 

“Fine,” you said waspishly, turning back to your window. “You saw it crack. Now I don’t have to kiss you.” 

“Oh, you _definitely_ have to kiss me. It’s the only rule of the game, [Name].” 

You whipped your face back toward him, causing the other three to cringe a bit. Barton, though? Barton didn’t look a bit worried. “And if I kiss you, you’ll leave me alone?” 

“For the rest of the mission,” he answered, holding his hand up in a Boy Scout salute. “You have my word.” 

You said nothing, but got to your feet and walked toward him. He smiled all the while, meaning that by the time you got to him, you much would have rather slapped him. Instead of acting on that impulse, you closed your eyes and leaned forward. Not two seconds later, Clint’s lips pressed against yours. You expected him to pull back quickly, but instead, he placed his hand on your chin and pressed it gently upward, deepening the kiss. 

When he broke it, two minutes later, all you could do was say, a little breathlessly, “Nothing personal?” 

Clint simply laughed. “Okay, maybe it was a _little_ personal.” 

You lifted a single eyebrow. “And now you’ll leave me alone for the rest of the trip?” 

“If that’s what you want.” 

“Good.” 

And before he could kiss you again, you went back to the window, much to the amusement of his three agent friends.


	4. Don't Worry [Steve Rogers]

Steve Rogers didn’t have too much trouble with accepting death. When he was first alive, people were going to Germany and dying in droves. As a soldier, those sorts of things just _happened_. 

When Bucky died, his body had just fallen away. There hadn’t been any blood. There hadn’t been anything to see at all. As the rest of his comrades were buried one by one, Steve himself slept peacefully in the ice. Thus, as much as he could say he accepted death, he’d never seen it. 

Until now. And Steve was taken aback by just how much blood one person contained. 

“[Name],” he said, his voice quiet as he lifted you from the twisted wreckage of the building. The body in his arms sputtered and his heart leaped–against his will and just a little, but it was a leap all the same. “[Name]!” 

“Oh. Steve. Hi,” you said around a mouthful of blood that stained your lips redder than he’d ever seen them. 

“Hi? Is that all you can say?” His voice sounded rough, but he lifted you higher, pressing you gently to his chest. 

“Well, under the circumstances,” you managed a weak chuckle and even that smile of yours he had fallen in love with, “I’m not sure what else to say.” 

“Don’t worry.” Steve looked up, already searching for a way to get you somewhere–anywhere–that could get all this red back inside you. “We’re going to get you somewhere safe.” 

“Steve.” The whisper was so quiet that he _had_ to look down. You lifted a trembling hand and pressed it to his cheek. “ _You_ don’t worry. You’re going to find someone better, okay?” 

“No, don’t–” 

With the last vestiges of your strength, you pulled yourself up and kissed his cheek. His fingers contracted around your sides, but when you fell back into his arms, you stopped moving, leaving Steve all alone in the chaos, staring at you and oblivious to the smear of red on his face. 


	5. Enough for Now [Bruce Banner]

Bruce had dated around before the other guy had shown up, that much was true. Heck, he’d dated Betty _after_ the other guy had shown up. Eventually he’d had to leave for her safety. They’d both moved on since then. 

But moving on didn’t mean he was back where he had finished with Betty. Everything seemed new again, even now that he was dating you. When did he try to kiss you? How did he know if he could hold your hand? And, of course, there was always the lingering shadow of doubt in his mind over whether this was even a good idea. 

Still, Bruce loved you. He couldn’t deny that. _Take it slow,_ he told himself as he watched you dig your toes into the sand and laugh. _Take it slow,_ as he nodded and smiled at your front door when he dropped you off after dinner. _Take it slow,_ when he caught you shyly watching him from behind the elevator doors while he worked with Tony. 

Then, one day, he wasn’t sure he wanted to take it slow anymore. He was at a movie, but he was watching you instead–watching the picture move in your eyes and the way your lips quirked up when one of the characters said something funny. And with your hand resting casually on the armrest next to him, Bruce found he couldn’t resist. 

He took your hand. Placed his fingers between yours. Felt his heart race. Was this going too far? 

You smiled at him and squeezed his hand gently. Hardly daring to believe this was okay, Bruce smiled, squeezed back, and turned toward the movie screen. 

Maybe it was a tiny step. 

But it was enough for now.


	6. Innuendo [Tony Stark]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not know then, nor do I know now, any sort of actual innuendo. I just don't get them. Sorry.

Tony Stark was many things: Egotistical. Lacking in restraint. A sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen.

He was also your boss.

Of course, every woman in the building had a crush on him–even most of the married ones. So when he came around your table to flirt with you every day, you _had_ to brush him off. You couldn’t stay in a workplace where everyone hated your guts for attracting the boss’ attention.

So when he rapped on the wall next to your desk for the fifth time one day, you set yourself to reject him as quickly and forcibly as possible. 

“Yes, Mr. Stark?” 

Tony grinned. One of the older ladies at a work station behind him turned to give you the evil eye. You swallowed, hard, and forced yourself to look up at his face without blushing. 

I’m going to need you to work overtime tonight, if you know what I mean.” 

Your eyes met the woman’s behind him. A smug smile tugged across her face before she turned back to her work.<

"Oh. Sure,” you replied. 

He nodded, then leaned in closer. You almost pushed him away, but first he whispered: 

“In case you don't know what I mean, I mean that we should have sex.” 

If only your coworker knew. 


	7. Tease [Pepper Potts]

  
_"You’re going to be there tonight, right?”_

_“I don’t know, Pepper. You know all those Stark shindigs aren’t really my thing.”_

_“They aren’t mine either! Please? I’m going to be so out of place.”_

_“What are you wearing?”_

_“Remember the present Mr. Stark got me for my birthday?”_

_“You mean the present he didn’t get you?”_

_“That’s the one.”_

_“Is he going to be there?”_

_“I don’t think he was issued an invitation this year.”_

_“Then maybe I’ll make an appearance. Just to see you in that dress.”_

******

You wandered through the crowded reception area, listening to news reporters chatter about Tony’s latest breakdown and watching the cameras flash across the room. Where _was_ Pepper? She’d gone to all that trouble to ask you to show up and now she was nowhere to be found. _And_ after making sure to mention she was wearing that dress of hers.

“Oh, is that him? Oh my God! That’s Tony Stark,” a young, blonde woman with a cameraman in tow squealed as she pointed at the dance floor. The cameraman shifted in front of you. This forced you to your toes to see over the top of his head. “But who’s that he’s dancing with?”

Whoever it was, she was beautiful. Her auburn hair waved gently to her mid-back, which was bare almost all the way down the diamond cut in her stunning blue dress. Then the couple spun around and you caught the woman’s face.

Tony was dancing with none other than _Pepper_. Your mouth fell open. Tony? She didn’t even _like_ Tony. But before you could stomp from the room in a terrible snit, she caught your eye and winked.

What a tease.


	8. Love Letters [Phil Coulson]

You should have known something was up when you heard laughter bouncing down Stark Tower’s high-tech hallways. People never laughed inside Stark Tower; they were usually too busy arguing with Tony. But stupid you had to get closer, thinking the impossible and that maybe Steve and Tony were playing nice for once.

“Oh, oh, here’s another one!” Tony’s voice came from the living room.

“Read it,” Clint’s voice called eagerly and the distinctive laughs of the other male Avengers joined in.

“Okay, shh, here we go.” Tony cleared his throat. You neared the room, wondering what everyone was finding so amusing, only to have that question answered shortly.

“Dear [Name]."” Tony paused to let Thor and Clint snicker. You weren’t too worried at this point–the fact that he was reading something addressed to you hadn’t fully sunk in. “I was happy to have received your return letter yesterday. I’m sorry I haven’t been in town lately. Work keeps calling me in. Despite that, I have something important to tell you.”

Wait. That sounded really familiar.

“I love you. And I hope you feel the same way.”

Because it _was_.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t. I’ll be back next week. Maybe we can meet up for coffee?”

By now, everyone in the room with Tony was cracking up. You could feel your face burning as you burst into the room and shouted:

“Tony Stark, what are you doing?”

The man only gave a smirking nod in response. “Sincerely, Phil.” With that, Tony placed the letter back into the sea of those spread across his footstool. Clint twisted to look at you, rubbing a tear from his eye.

“I don’t know how you fell in love with him, [Name], if that’s the kind of thing he sent you.”

“Because,” you said sweetly, and only Clint had the foresight to back away. “He lets me do _this_


	9. Secrets [Loki Laufeyson]

As a mercenary, you’d been trained not to ask too many questions.

As a mercenary, you’d probably never wanted to ask one more than you did at that very moment.

“And you need me to run guard duty _because_?” You had to admit: you were gaping. This client was, first and foremost, very handsome, and on top of that, he had a fellow mercenary you recognized as a S.H.I.E.L.D. operative already working for him. .

Mr. Laufeyson smirked in response. “Oh, I don’t think you need to know the reason. Just make sure no one from S.H.I.E.L.D gets in, and if they do, kill them.”

“But you've already got _Clint Barton_ working for you."

“I need Barton for other matters,” Mr. Laufeyson said as he got very close to you–so close, in fact, your bodies were nearly touching. You had to gulp to suppress a shiver at his proximity. “But if you're really curious, if you do your job well, maybe I’ll take you somewhere even more private later. Maybe I'll even give you some answers."

That was good enough to tide you over for the time being.


	10. Never Look Back [Tony Stark]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a reference to "Ever After." Instead it just wound up being stupid.

Emergencies called for quick action: quick rushing to the top floor lab, quick suiting up, quick leaving the tower before anyone was the wiser. Not that Tony _wasn’t_ supposed to be going off to save the day, but it was easier to leave than face the fact that one of these times, he might not come back.

“Stark,” Steve’s voice came crackling over the intercom. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way. Already in flight, yadda yadda yadda.”

And he was. He couldn’t say how far away he was because he couldn’t look back–not when he knew his family was going to be standing on his launch pad, watching him speed past the buildings. One of these days, it was going to make him want to stop being a superhero.

“Sir?” JARVIS said and when Tony didn’t answer, added, “It’s tradition.”

Tony took a deep breath and turned slightly in the air. Sure enough, standing exactly where he thought they would be, were you and his two children. All three of you beamed when you spotted him and the youngest, his daughter, took several steps forward to wave. Tony waved back.

“Good bye, sweetheart. Stay safe.”

He turned back around and zoomed around a corner.

When was he going to learn to never look back?


	11. Not Sorry [Phil Coulson]

Normally, Phil was a pretty punctual guy. He went to work before you woke up and came back well after you had fallen asleep. It wasn’t a bad thing–just one of the conditions you had to accept when you decided you wanted to have a relationship with him.

But today wasn’t exactly a normal day. When you stumbled downstairs at around ten in the morning, you smelled pancakes. You paused in the doorway to the kitchen and sniffed the air.

“Good morning.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin. And why wouldn’t you? Normally you had the house to yourself on the weekdays. But the voice did not belong to an intruder. Phil stood beside the table with his fingers resting on the chair in front of him as he watched you press a hand to your chest. He gave you a sheepish smile from across the kitchen.

“Sorry.”

You shook your head and wandered over to peck him on the cheek. “Do you have the day off?” Most of the time, Phil reminded you when his employer gave him a rare vacation day. The fact that he was standing in front of you without having said anything about that was strange.

“No, but…it’s your birthday.” He smiled. “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Touched by the gesture, you kissed him again. Phil pulled the chair out, and you settled into eat your heart-shaped pancakes. He took his seat opposite you and watched you dig in.

“You’re going to be late for work,” you pointed out.

It was Phil’s turn to shake his head, but he smiled again as he did. “I’m not sorry.”


	12. Demons [Loki Laufeyson]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LEMON ALERT! 
> 
> Thanks, past!me. I hate it.

After Loki’s betrayal of Asgard and of Earth, a lot of people were willing to rescind his title of "demigod." No one, most argued, could be that cruel and still retain such a high position in the eyes of either public. After starting what was widely known as a disgraceful affair with him, however, you would have to disagree with their assessment that he wasn’t godlike…

…But you would accept his reassignment to "demon-like."

Tangled in his sheets, bare legs twisted around his equally naked limbs, it was difficult to remember what, exactly, he had done in the past few months. Everything felt too good. A set of teeth sunk into your shoulder, and the mew you let out in protest sounded much more like a moan of pleasure.

At this sound, Loki shifted. Through your glazed eyes, you could see his face come to hover right in front of your own. His pale lips quirked up in a smirk as he brushed a lock of sweaty hair from your forehead. You tensed, and, in a movement so quick you could hardly see it, he captured your wrists and held them above your head.

“Why don’t you beg for it?” Loki whispered.

As much as you wanted him inside you, you pursed your own lips and shook your head. Loki’s smirk widened. He dipped his head out of your sight while using his free hand to enter you and scissor violently at your warmth. You took in a sharp hiss of breath as he chuckled against your neck.

“Come on, [Name],” he said quietly, his lips brushing softly against your skin. You squirmed underneath his weight, eyes flashing, not quite ready to give in. “Beg.”

You only started to shake your head before he thrust his fingers more aggressively at your wall. Your back arched upward. Between panting, your unfocused gaze found Loki’s grinning, expectant face. When at last you had calmed down, you said in a breathy voice:

“Please.”

“Not quite.”

“God, _please_.”

Loki withdrew his hand and brought his mouth to your ear one last time.

“With pleasure.”


	13. Back Around [Clint Barton]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't understand what this prompt was about, so...this happened.

There it was: The empty room. The clean shot. The ringing silence that came before Clint made another perfect kill on another dignitary that was getting too big for their britches. He was used to these moments, had even come to love them.

But something this time wasn’t right.

Even though he had already docked his arrow, Clint’s eyes darted behind him. The feeling had been coming on all afternoon, but now it sharpened to a point. Someone was following him, watching him from inside the very room. He gently removed his arrow, but kept his bow positioned so he could use it in hand-to-hand combat at a moment's notice.

“Hello?” he asked the silent room. Nothing answered, not even the potted plant sitting by the door. He marched over to check it anyway, thinking he might have seen it twitching in the golden sunlight, but there was nothing there.

“Huh, must have been my imagin–” He broke off with yelp and whirled back around to face his assaulter. Of course, he found you, leering up at him, your grin huge on your face and your fingers still in pinching position.

“Nice ass, honey,” you said, waggling your eyebrows. Clint sighed.

He was going to have to ask Director Fury to quit pinning his assignments to the company board.


	14. Damn [Steve Rogers]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really can't look at this one without feeling quite a bit of shame. Why did I write so many drabbles for this dealing with sex work? I don't remember having a particular bent for it back in 2012. All the same, I could have done a better job. If you or someone you love is a sex worker, I am sorry. I was young and I was stupid and for some reason I thought this was a good idea. I assure you it doesn't become a theme in my writing. At least it definitely isn't nowadays.

It was Tony who took him to the strip bar; Tony who insisted that what Steve needed was a nice "guy’s night out" to get used to the twenty-first century; Tony who had pushed Steve onto the stage with you.

Captain America would never have been found in such a bind, if left to his own devices. But there Steve was, standing rooted to the spot while a half-naked woman pranced around him and Tony hooted at him from below. Steve could feel himself turning redder and redder and redder.

You stopped dancing and made a slashing movement across your throat. Whoever was in the sound booth switched the music off. As Steve continued to look everywhere but at your cleavage, you took his hands.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“Ah, um–sorry, ma’am. I should probably get going…” He glanced once at your eyes and then his own became glued to his shoes.

“First time at a strip bar?” Steve gave you a hesitant nod, still refusing to look at you. Somewhere he couldn’t see, Tony was coughing suggestively. “Well, don’t worry,” you said as you dragged your fingers gently down his chest. “I’ll show you the ropes.”

“O…Okay.”

“But sweetheart? You’re gonna have to look at me.”

He did, but at the same time, one of his hands came to rest on your hips. Your grin grew wicked.

“Hey, the stripper can touch you, but please don’t touch the stripper.”

“Oh–Oh. Sorry.” Steve blushed crimson and shuffled awkwardly several feet to the left. You just threw back your head and laughed as you closed the distance.

“I’m kidding.” And when he looked up, you winked and put his hand back. “ _You_ can touch me all you want.”


	15. Strip [Bruce Banner]

When Bruce woke up, he knew that something was wrong. He felt warm and toasty and was laying down on a couch he had no recollection of being near prior to his nap.

Only, it hadn’t been a nap. He could tell by the way his body felt strained and exhausted. No, all he’d done was aggravate the Other Guy again. Groaning, he began to stand up and remove the blanket wrapped around him.

“Wait!”

Bruce froze and looked around. Standing across the room from him was his girlfriend. Your hands were currently clapped over your face but he could still see your beet-red cheeks underneath them.

“Oh,” he breathed. “Oh. [Name].”

You said nothing, but continued to keep your hands over your eyes. Feeling his heart sink to his toes, Bruce said shakily:

“How much did you see?”

“I’m so sorry,” you squeaked. “I promise I didn’t look at anything!”

“L-Look, I know it was scary but–”

“It’s just that–you know–you turned into that thing and no one got hurt but you turned back and–and then you were _naked_ ,” you said, so quickly that Bruce could hardly register your string of words, and I couldn’t just _leave_ you there!”

“[Name], I appreciate that, but–”

“So I brought you back here and I put that blanket on you because I know we haven’t really got that far in our relationship and I didn’t want to embarrass you and I swear I was really careful and I didn’t look at your penis!”

Bruce could only stare. You shuddered slightly, hands still in place. Slowly, he arranged the blanket back on his lap. When he spoke again, he barely managed to suppress a laugh.

“Let me get this straight. You’re more upset over seeing me naked than seeing me…hulked out?”

You took a deep breath and peered through one set of fingers. “Shouldn’t I be?”

This time, Bruce really did laugh.


	16. Soaked [Thor Odinson]

Sometimes, it really sucked dating a demigod. For one thing, he was a lot stronger than you. For another, he left his hammer lying around frequently, and when you needed to vacuum it was quite a hassle trying to find him so that he could remove it from the carpet. Lastly (and you couldn’t stress this point enough) he got to have a lot of cool powers that you simply would never get to use.

This, of course, explained the large bucket of water you had dragged up with you to the common area of the Avengers tower. Ignoring the questioning looks from Clint and Natasha (whatever; they should have been used to your weirdness by then), you gripped it in your hands while you called for your boyfriend.

“Oh, Thor!”

“[Name]!” Thor looked up as soon as he heard your voice, smile already in place. “I thought you would not be returned from your trip until tomorrow.”

“I came back early as a surprise. I have something to give you.”

“What is it?” he asked, wandering over toward you. You waited until he was right in front of you and then hefted the bucket above your head. The water tumbled over Thor’s body, leaving him confused and thoroughly soaked.

“Ha,” you cried triumphantly as you struck a pose and pointed in the air. “Now you are powerless before me!”

Thor merely blinked owlishly down at you, seemingly oblivious to the water dripping from his hair. Tony coughed.

“Uh, [Name]?” he said from the kitchen.

“Yeah?”

“You do realize water _conducts_ electricity?”

Your smile faltered just as Thor’s flashed back onto his face.

“I’d run,” Tony advised in a stage whisper.

You couldn’t follow his suggestion quickly enough.


	17. Foolish [Pepper Potts]

Pepper had been friends with you for years. As such, she knew what a worrywart you were. She also knew that you had probably seen the news about everything going on with Stark Industries. Thus, she had waited to call you. This was probably one of her more foolish decisions of the night–impressive, considering everything that happened.

“Oh my god!” Pepper’s phone barely registered a ring before you picked up the other line. “Oh my god!”

“[Name],” Pepper said in her most calming voice. Best to nip this situation in the bud before it got worse. “Calm down.”

“Calm down? Have you seen the news?” you shrieked. “Pepper, you almost died!”

“Okay, I know it looks bad, but–”

“Looks bad? Looks bad? Tony Stark _looks_ bad hung over. This _is_ bad. For god’s sake, Pepper, some monster in a suit tried to kill you!”

Pepper could not argue that. She lifted a shaky hand and pressed two fingers gently into her temple. “[Name], I’m fine. All right?”

“Good.” She noticed, however, that you didn’t sound much less panicked. After an uncomfortable pause, you continue in a tone of forced casualness, “What happened?”

“What happened when?”

“How did you get out okay?” you asked softly.

“Oh. Tony showed up and saved the day.”

“Dammit.”

“ _Excuse_ me?”

“Now I have to write him a thank you note.”


	18. Never Again [Natasha Romanoff]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued (and finished) from Hypocrisy.
> 
> Thus ends my murky and not all that great look at the theme of sex work. Thank goodness.

Okay, so, maybe Natasha had been right, you mused as you backed away from the street and the very angry looking man advancing toward you. Maybe your outfit had _not_ been the best idea. But how were you supposed to know there was a dress code for prostitution? And how were you supposed to know the man in charge of the entire ring would be in town to check up on his girls that night?

“I asked you a question,” the man said, coming nearer. Your back met a brick wall that you could already tell would scrape up your top. “What the _fuck_ are you doing here?”

“I, ah.” Your mind raced as you tried to think of a reasonable explanation that wouldn’t give you away. Of course, kicking his ass was always an option, but then you would be pulled off the assignment and given another desk job. “It’s a nice night out?”

“Don’t give me any shit.” The man was now close enough that you could smell the alcohol on his breath. He clearly wasn’t drunk, but that didn’t mean you were out of the woods. “Are you with S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“No, I–”

“Lair!” The man’s hand lashed out so quickly that you had no time to respond. His fingers pressed into your throat, making black dots bloom across your vision.

“I’m not–lying–” you managed before he cut off your air supply entirely. Your legs started to flail beneath you, but he was much taller and you couldn’t get your feet near enough to land a hit.

“If you think I’m stupid, you’ve got another think coming,” he said with his teeth barred, his nose practically pressing against yours. “Not that you’ll have time for any more thinking once I’m done with you.”

You twisted violently in his grip, but it did not loosen. With the black almost covering your eyes, you began to give up hope when–

_Crash!_

The wall behind you burst outward, showering you and your captor with rubble. Startled, the man forgot to pay attention and allowed you to twist free from his grip. You stood instantly, ready to attack in return, but he had already been kicked into the hole in the building. A resounding _crunch_ told you when he hit the opposite wall.

“Wh–What?” you panted as you blinked the tears in your eyes away. What had happened? The man had made sure the street corner had been completely empty so he could "have a word with you in private." Heart still beating like a caged hummingbird, you turned to look behind you.

Natasha stood calmly in the rubble, eyebrows raised but saying nothing. A blush burned in your cheeks as you ducked your head and made your way toward her.

“Have a nice evening?” she asked once you had neared.

You took a deep, shuddering breath before you looked up at her. “Never. Again.”

Natasha pursed her lips, gave you one last quick once over, then offered you her hand. “Come on. Let’s get you back to base.”

You were all too willing to go along.


	19. Don't Walk Away [Thor Odinson]

“Heimdall!” Thor shouted at the sky, and you waited with bated breath. How long until Loki’s plans came to fruition? Every second Heimdall failed to let you all back into Asgard extended the possibilities of the destruction of an entire realm. As much of a warrior as you were, even you knew enough not to want that. “Heimdall!”

This time, the effect was instantaneous. The sky above the pattern in the dirt erupted in a multitude of colors and lights began to spill from the resulting hole. You, Sif, and the Warriors Three strode forward, already prepared to enter the Bifrost.

Only Thor hung back.

“Thor?” you asked and turned back just in time to see him in a lip lock with the scientist woman he’d been staying with. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head.

Thankfully, the kiss did not last long. Still, Thor was noticeably thrown by the event, which only added to the deadened feeling in your chest that had started when you’d seen the way he looked at her. Years spent as his comrade and yet you could not hope to compete with a mere mortal Midgardian.

“Thor. Let us go!” Fandral called. Thor nodded and wandered toward your group–with many a glance back at Jane and her friends.

“Is something wrong?” you murmured when he was close enough to hear you. Thor shook his head.

“Loki. I fear he is not right in his mind. If I were to leave Jane or Darcy or Dr. Selvik here…what of them? What if Loki sends reinforcements to Earth?”

You exchanged worried looks with the rest of your group. After a brief pause, Volstagg thought to offer:

“Perhaps one of us should stay behind.”

“I will do it.” The words were out of your mouth so quickly, you almost thought you hadn’t said them. All at once, every head spun around to stare at you. Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg’s mouths popped open. And why wouldn’t they? You’d made no secret of your crush on Thor and here you were offering to skip out on a battle with him to stay behind and protect the woman he had deemed more worthy than you.

Even Thor looked a little confused. “Are you quite certain?”

You hazarded another quick look at the group standing apart from yours. Even at this distance, you could see the feelings shining in Jane’s eyes. Your shoulders slumped.

“Yes. I am certain.”

“Then we leave.” Thor clapped you on the shoulder and stepped past you. The other four followed suit and you took a deep breath, readying to return to the group of Midgardians. Thor, however, called back to you. “We shall return for you, [Name].”

You could only manage a small smile in return. “Make glorious battle.”

Thor nodded and disappeared into the Bifrost with the rest of your friends.

“Miss Foster?”

“Yes?”

“Follow me. I’ll get you to safety.”

But even as you led the three of them over another hump in the desert ground, you bit your lip and looked back, hoping all the while that he would return and beg you not to walk away.


	20. What If? [Steve Rogers]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahaha screw you, endgame!steve

11:30 at night and at last the credits from the movie rolled to a stop. As the background music faded away, Steve stretched slowly and glanced at his side. Whatever he was going to say about going to bed died on his lips when he spotted the person curled up there. Her eyes shut, her chest gently rising and falling–you had already fallen fast asleep.

He let out a low chuckle as he brushed a bit of hair from your face. As he did so, Steve could not help but remember all of his insistence that he would have been better off left back in 1945. He could have grown old with his friends, could have settled down and had a family next to theirs, could even have taken Peggy out on that date he’d promised her.

The guilt he felt after the Chutari invasion had nearly crushed him. Steve might have taken to drinking, if that would have been any help. Instead, he just sort of floated listlessly, back to where he started before Director Fury had offered him a job.

And then he met you: soft and sweet and quiet, with a laugh that made his heart beat a little faster every time he heard it. After weeks of trying to work up the nerve to ask, he’d taken you on a first date, then a second, then a tenth. Now here you were in his apartment, asleep on his couch, snuggled up against his side as if there wasn’t a place in the world you’d rather be.

“I love you,” Steve whispered as he pulled the blanket up to your chin and settled in for the night.

Sure, sometimes he would ask what would have happened if he hadn’t crashed that plane, but the answer was simple:

Then he wouldn’t have you.


	21. His Girl [Natasha Romanoff]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This starts a series of drabbles assigned to both Natasha and Clint, forming a sort of ClintxNatashaxReader love triangle.

Natasha was an attractive woman–even she knew that. How else would she be able to use her looks to her advantage during her work? When anybody decided to get close enough to ask her out, though, she would tell them all the same thing: Love is for children.

Unfortunately, lust was an altogether different feeling and of such an adult variety that she found it difficult to quash down.

She couldn’t say, exactly, when the feeling had started up. All Natasha knew was that now, whenever she was alone with you, she had trouble keeping her hands to herself–and that whenever she saw Clint kissing you, she had a hard time not ripping him apart. Very strange, considering she herself had always liked and admired Clint.

At least until he asked you out.

“Um…Natasha?”

Natasha’s eyes snapped up to see you standing nervously in front of her. How irritating; now she couldn’t even talk to you without you being scared of her. She immediately started sifting through her work files to give her hands something to do--anything would be better than pulling you across the desk and sticking her tongue down your throat.

“Yes, [Name]?”

“Are you, um…is everything okay?” you asked.

“Everything is fine,” she answered simply. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that, well, Clint said–” Here Natasha snorted. “He said you were acting sort of weird and I didn’t believe him, but then I started watching and…you kind of are. Are you mad at me?” you asked in a rush, quailing underneath her unblinking stare.

Natasha watched you for a moment, then set her papers down with a sigh. “No, I’m not mad at you. I’m sorry for acting like I was.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

You did not look like you believed her, but turned to leave. “Okay, well…if you ever want to talk, let me know.”

She let you get to the door before adding, “[Name]?”

“Yes?”

“I know how much you like Barton. So…congratulations, on him asking you out.”

It was your turn to look at her and she noticed the careful gleam in your eye. “Thanks,” you said slowly.

Natasha nodded, and, taking that as a clear dismissal, you left her--alone again and resisting the urge to chase after you and press you against the wall.


	22. You [Tony Stark]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one shot has a continuation later on down the line. 
> 
> It also later became the inspiration for my full-length Tony StarkxReaderxJustin Hammer fan fic, Brightest, which is still ongoing like...six years later. Eventually I'll get it edited and up on AO3! But chapters just take so much more work.

Weddings were supposed to be happy times. Family and friends, white dresses, loads of food (and alcohol), honeymooning on a beach for two weeks. Even the planning was supposed to be enjoyable. Every little girl dreamed of getting married, or so they claimed. You’d had fun. Hadn’t you?

Listening to the gentle orchestral music floating upward from the church sanctuary, however, you couldn’t remembering thinking of anything involved with this wedding as "fun." Your fiancé had wanted this fancy wedding, not you. He wanted the crowds and the ten course meal and the too-long honeymoon somewhere you’d never heard of. Not once had he asked for your opinion on something.

Well, at least you knew why the expression was called "cold feet." Yours had become so numb that you had to keep checking to make sure they were still there. Your chest felt tight in your inappropriately white dress, and the heady perfume floating from all the flowers threatened to overwhelm you.

A quiet knock on the door interrupted your reverie. At last, you lifted your head from your arms. “Dad, I don’t think I’m ready yet. Can you come back in ten minutes?”

The door opened. “Well, that’s kind of a strange way to start the roleplaying, but I’ll take it.”

Your mouth fell open. Reflected in the mirror and illuminated by the gold light floating up from downstairs was none other than Tony Stark. You hastily wiped at your eyes as you turned in your seat, your many skirts rustling as you did. Oh god, don’t let Tony notice you had been crying. You didn’t think you could handle that right now.

“What are you doing here?” you asked in a voice you hoped wasn’t as raspy as you thought. Tony shrugged and closed door behind him with a gentle _snap_.

“Nothing, really,” he answered as he walked toward you, dark eyes roving around the tiny bridal room. If you knew anything about Tony, you knew he thought the amount of pink knick-knacks in the room–and the lack of any cool tech–was deplorable. “Just came to see you before the big moment.” He stopped in front of you and clapped his hands once. “You look beautiful.”

Your eyebrows rose. “You came all the way here to compliment me on my dress?”

“Well,” Tony picked once at his beard and then shrugged again, “and ask you for a bit of advice.”

“You came to ask me for _advice_? On what? Getting married?”

He waved your words away and continued on as if you hadn’t questioned him. “Listen. You know I’m a playboy.”

“Who doesn’t?”

This time, it was he who raised his eyebrows, clearly asking if he might continue uninterrupted. You heaved a sigh and motioned for him to go on.

“I’m a playboy,” he repeated. “But the truth is, there’s this girl. I think I might be in love with her.”

“So?”

“… _So_?”

“Tony, both you and I know that if there is a girl you are in love with, all you need to do is tell her. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re Tony Stark. She isn’t going to say no.”

“Actually, I _had_ noticed that, being a genius and getting to look at this face every day in the mirror.” He grinned and you laughed despite feeling so anxious and awful. If you were honest with yourself, Tony being there was something of a relief. He always managed to make you laugh–and half the wedding decisions that had come from you had actually come from him. You hadn’t been able to stomach thinking about it much. “There’s a problem this time, though.”

“What problem?” you asked with a quick look at the clock on the back wall. Ten more minutes. That’s all you had. Tony glanced at you then back away with a wince. The sudden show of nerves, something Tony almost never had, made you worried. “Tony? Are you okay?”

“She’s getting married,” he said as if admitting something unpleasant. Which, you guessed, he probably was. “Really soon.”

“Really? Who is she?”

Tony gave you a look. He was clearly questioning your intelligence, which seemed reasonable once he explained himself. “[Name]. It’s you.”

“What?” You shifted away from him, back toward the mirror. Even without looking, you could tell you were blushing. Sure, you’d liked Tony in the past, but he had Pepper. Then you’d met Frank and Frank had been–Well, you and Frank were getting married. “Since when?”

“Since awhile.”

“Tony!” you snapped. “I’m getting married! In eight minutes!”

“I know. I just wonder if you’re happy with the decision.”

“Of course I’m happy!”

“Then why were you crying before I walked in?”

Your mouth opened and closed several times before you had to reach up to wipe away fresh tears. Tony remained silent all the while. At last you said, your voice quite strangled, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. And if I thought it would help matters, I would happily kick Frank’s ass for screwing you over so much. I won’t, though, because I know you wouldn’t appreciate that.”

“No, I wouldn’t. Frank has done so much for me.”

“Is that what you look for in a potential mate?” Tony gave you a hard look that you almost could not meet. “Because I have to say that I could do a lot more for you than that jerk if it's money and toys you're looking for.”

“It doesn’t matter. Even if you beat him up, I would still have to–”

Tony did not allow you to finish that sentence. He cut you off by gently pushing your head forward and kissing you. Your eyes popped open and by the time he was finished, you were ready to cry again.

“All I’m saying,” said Tony, “is that you do look beautiful in that dress. But I’d like it hell of a lot more on you if you were walking down that aisle and marrying me than I do knowing you’re broken up inside and wearing it to marry some asshole that treats you like a second-class citizen.”

“Tony,” you whispered, but he held up a hand to stop you. His other he stuffed into one of the pockets in his dress pants.

“You’ve got five minutes now. If you were to change your mind, no one would blame you.” You opened your mouth to protest. Frank would certainly mind, as would his family and your family and practically everyone in that room downstairs. Tony, however, continued loudly, determined to drown out any protests you might have. “And if they did, who gives a damn? It’s your life and you should be happy with it. If Frank doesn’t make you happy, then you shouldn’t do this.”

He walked toward the door. Your heart hammered so hard in your chest that you thought it was going to bounce right up your throat–if your throat wasn’t already too full of tears to allow exit.

“If you do marry him, I won’t question you. But I’ll be outside in my car. You come out, we leave, we don’t tell anyone. Hell, we can elope right now if you want.”

All you could manage in return was a shaky nod. Tony made to close the door, but paused right before he did.

“[Name]?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Make the right decision.”


	23. Sadistic [Bruce Banner]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More smut! Uggggh, why did you DO this to me, young!me??

When Bruce woke up, he was in someone else’s bed. It took him a few minutes to realize he hadn’t upset the Other Guy and a few minutes more to remember that he was in a serious relationship, so waking up in your bed wasn’t something to worry about.

It was, however, something he wanted to limit. Since he could tell by the lighting in the room that it was barely morning, he assumed you would be asleep. It was the perfect time to get away without having to explain why. He'd see you again later, after you had time to wake up and wander downstairs. No questions asked. Bruce shifted upward, getting ready to leave, when:

“Going somewhere?”

He looked over at the other body lying in the bed. There you were, on your side, staring at him with big, [color] eyes. Bruce swallowed. “Just going to see Tony. We had plans for the morning and–”

Without waiting for him to finish, you sat up and straddled his hips. His eyes flicked once to the left and once to the right before settling on your eyes. It was a difficult choice, considering you were still naked from the night before.

“[Name], what are you doing?” Bruce asked.

“Well, you could go see Tony in the lab…” You trailed away and nipped at the space behind his ear. Bruce gave an sharp gasp of breath as he stiffened; his hands clutched involuntarily at your sides to keep you in place.

“Or we could,” you began to trail your fingers in tantalizing curlicues down his chest, “stay here and see if we could get you to Hulk out.”

He smiled. “Are you still on that? I’m pretty sure he’d break you–in more ways than one.”

“Mmhm,” you hummed. Your hand had reached his pants. Before Bruce could swat it away, as he was wont to do, you pushed past the elastic and gripped at his penis. “And if I said I didn’t care?”

“A-Ah, [Name]!” Bruce gasped, arching slightly up toward you in protest. You smiled so hard he could nearly see your molars. “I don’t think–”

“Come on.” You pumped harder. “It’s in the interest of science.”

Although clearly affected by the hand job, Bruce pretended to consider this for half a minute. Then he tugged your hand out and sat up slightly to kiss you.

“Not today.”

“Awww.” You stuck out your lower lip. Bruce chuckled, but pressed you into his chest all the same.

“You’re sadistic. You know that, right?”

You answered by pressing a very long, hard kiss against his lips.

“And if I wasn’t, you never would have fallen for me."


	24. Addiciton [Phil Coulson]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of 2.
> 
> Please note that I wrote this well before "Agents of SHIELD" was so much as announced.

As soon as Phil entered the house, he realized why S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent him. The reason hadn’t been exactly clear at first. It wasn't like going to check up on various agents was a high-risk job. It was something newbies got asked to do, unless the agents they were checking up on were very dangerous. This particular agent was not. But only one look around the apartment and he knew.

He waited while his eyes adjusted to the dark. It was nearly eleven and not a single light illuminated the home. Still, Phil could see the state of ruin the apartment was in: clothes draped haphazardly across the furniture, rugs covered in filth, the occasional empty glass bottle thrown into a corner.

In layman’s terms: not good.

“[Name]?” Phil barely raised his voice as he stepped more deeply inside. If he had been hoping to unearth you, you granted his wish. From the kitchen, he heard a loud crash and then several very shaky footsteps.

You appeared in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. Your [color] hair formed wild tendrils around your face, obviously unwashed for who knew how long. Your eyes were glassy, your cheeks pink, and your filthy shirt (which was, Phil could not help but notice, the only thing you had on) covered in what he could only assume was most of the contents of the half-empty beer bottle clutched in your hand.

Phil didn’t have to say anything, because the moment you saw him, your mouth popped open. You lifted a trembling hand to your lips and he watched as your knees quivered.

“Oh my god.”

“[Name],” Phil began, but your legs gave out before he could continue.

“Oh my god.” Phil took a step forward and you looked up at him to slur, “Am I dead?”

He took a deep breath before shaking his head. “No. You're not dead.”

You took one look at the drink in your hand and threw it across the room. The brown bottle shattered on impact, sending bits of glass and beer droplets skittering across the floor. “Then I’m hallucinating.”

“You’re not hallucinating either.”

“Oh my god,” you said again, clutching your head between your hands. “I’m drunk. I am so drunk.”

“I certainly can’t argue that.” Phil glanced once behind him at the closed door. When Director Fury had said the incident of Phil's "death" had upset you and that he needed to go take of the problem, Phil hadn’t expected things to be quite this bad. Moving carefully, he moved to kneel next to you. “You’ve got a problem.”

Instead of protesting this (possibly because you wouldn’t be able to, given the state of things), you just looked up at Phil and burst into tears. He patted you gently on the head until you found the strength to say something.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You went off to confront Loki and I let you go without any backup. If I’d just…” You trailed away and buried your face in your hands, shoulders wracking with your sobs. “And now you’re _dead_.”

Alcohol, Phil mused, was a powerful substance. He’d seen its work on Stark well enough, but there was something even more jarring seeing it on you. Before his "disappearance," Phil could remember you being the kind of person who smiled more than frowned and who always had a wisecrack waiting when someone, even if it was you, screwed up.

“I’m not dead,” he said with a soft smile. “I got stabbed and then Director Fury thought it’d be good for the team if I…took some paid leave. A vacation. He said after ten years it was about time I took one.”

Slowly, you removed your hands. The tears made sticky trails through the grime on your cheeks. “You’re not dead?” you whispered.

“I’m not dead,” Phil said again.

You swallowed and then did something very unexpected:

You slapped him.

Phil blinked and pressed one hand to his stinging cheek. “I suppose I deserved that.”

Your eyes narrowed, then filled with tears again. He thought you might try to slap him a second time, but instead you did something else surprising: you sat up, wrapped your arms around his neck, and pulled him into a hug.

“I missed you,” you sobbed into Phil’s neck. Phil took a deep breath and patted you gently on the back.

“Yes, well, you’re drunk.”

You pulled away, sniffed, and managed a smile. “Maybe just a little.”

You needed out of this apartment, that much he knew. Director Fury would have to send someone in to clean up the mess, and maybe Natasha would have to help get you some new clothes, but for the moment, he didn’t think you were quite ready to hear that. He doubted your ability to even follow him outside. After working out the details of the plan in his head, Phil nodded.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He waited only long enough to see that you had passed out, head lolling against the white painted door frame, then he picked you up and carried you from the room.


	25. Cackle [Clint Barton]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from 21. His Girl

You found Clint waiting for you back in the employee lounge. His eyes were glued to the television, watching some mindless sports game you knew he normally wouldn’t be caught dead viewing. As soon as you entered the room, however, he switched the television off and looked straight at you.

“Well?” Clint asked as you settled down on the couch next to him and placed your hands in your lap. “How was it?”

You bit your lip before answering. “You were right.”

“Was I?” He looked delighted. “About what?”

“Natasha _is_ acting weird. I went in to talk to her and she barely even looked at me.”

“So, what’s up? Did you ask?”

You shrugged and leaned over to snuggle up against him. Clint wrapped one arm around your shoulders and pressed you gently closer. “I asked if she was mad at me.”

“And?”

“She said she wasn’t.” You heaved a sigh and looked back up at your boyfriend. At least Clint looked worried, too. “But I don’t know. I thought she and I were friends, you know? We used to talk a lot. I just don’t get what’s going on.”

Clint sucked on one side of his cheek before offering a guess. “Maybe she’s jealous of us?”

You let you a laugh so high pitched it was practically a cackle. “Yeah, Clint. Natasha is jealous of us. That’s it.”

“It could happen!”

“Clint,” you swiveled your hips slightly so you could look him straight in the face. “Natasha hasn’t exactly made her feelings on, well, _feelings_ a secret. I just must have done something to upset her.”

He nodded slowly and bent to press a kiss your forehead. “You're probably right.”

“Am I?” you asked in the same delighted tone he'd used before. Clint laughed and this time kissed you on the lips. Still, as you kissed him back, you couldn’t help but wonder if _he_ was right and you were wrong.

Because how else could you describe the look in Natasha’s eyes before you left?


	26. Awkward [Pepper Potts]

It was hard to get Pepper’s attention at work. Of course, it would have to be. Tony kept her running around all over the city (and sometimes the country) from dusk until dawn. Normally you didn’t mind her constant disappearances, as they helped hide how much you enjoyed seeing her. But for some reason, today, you had decided to make your move.

“Pepper!” you called as she rushed past your desk for the sixth time since eight am. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure,” she answered, though you noticed she looked a little distracted. Better hurry this up. Only now, with her paused expectantly right in front of your desk, you found it difficult to speak. Pepper tapped her toes and added, “Yes?”

“Um.” You squeezed your eyes shut. To be honest, you’d just wanted to talk to her. But all of sudden, the words came rushing out. “I–I love you.”

You opened your eyes just in time to see Pepper blanch. “What?”

“I, um.” Your fingers twitched. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, no,” Pepper said quickly. “I just–”

“I’m sorry.” You pressed your hands to your burning cheeks. “Look, I should just–”

Pepper kissed you on the cheek, causing you to fall into red-faced silence.

“I can’t talk about this now,” she whispered, “but I’ll call you later, all right?”

“Wh–”

“I have to go,” said Pepper quickly. “Tony is going to wonder where I am. But, [Name]?”

“Y-Yeah?”

She squeezed your fingers. “Thank you.”


	27. Friends (With Benefits) [Loki Laufeyson]

If Loki was surprised to find, when he skidded back into the familiar meeting room, no one there but you, he hid his surprise well. All you saw that might betray him, if he was at all betrayed, was the quick flash of his eyes around the seating area.

You lifted your chin from your position curled on a seat.

“Your Highness?”

Loki did not even shake his head at your sudden use of his new title. Blinking a few times, he stepped inside, peering around as if expecting Sif and the others to jump out from behind something and attack him. You watched him in silence, arms wrapped around your knees, until he caught your eye.

“Where are they?”

“Sif and the Warriors Three?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes. Them.”

You answered with a shrug. “Earth.”

“Earth?” he asked with a blanch. “Those–They went after Thor!”

“Of course,” you murmured as you continued to watch him. Color had stained his cheeks a pale pink, and, with the rising and falling of his chest, you could practically see the sparks moving through his brain. Without acknowledging your statement, he turned to march from the room.

“I must stop them! They’ll ruin _everything_. And for what? My hard-headed brat of a brother!” Just when you thought he was going to leave, Loki stopped. He stared at the golden floor beneath his feet as if transfixed. Then, just as quickly, he turned back to you. His fingers wrapped around his scepter, so tightly that they turned snow-white. “What are _you_ still doing here?”

“Do you mean for me to go after them?” It wasn’t a surprising turn of events, though admittedly not an idea you relished. After all, none of them had been particularly thrilled with your decision to stay on Asgard with the new king.

“No,” Loki answered slowly as he walked back toward you, his steps measured. “Why did you not go with them?”

Your eyes met his and when you spoke again, your voice was soft. “I have never been overly fond of Thor.”

“What?” His eyes narrowed as he cocked his head to one side. “You have always been so…open with your desire to have the crown.”

“Not the crown. One of the men who might get it one day.”

Loki’s eyes widened, then he froze. His tongue worked against his lips, but no words came out. Meanwhile, his fingers danced a cacophonous rhythm against his scepter. A slow smile spread across his face.

“Not my brother?”

“Not your brother.” Loki swooped down and planted a light kiss to your forehead. Surprised, you were unable to formulate a response until he was nearly out the door. “We shall speak of this later. After I solve this little Thor problem.”

You watched him leave and your chin slowly sunk back onto your knees. “I’ll be waiting.


	28. Power [Pepper Potts]

“We have _got_ to quit doing this.” Pepper’s shaky voice interrupted the silence of the office. Still, her trembling fingers pushed deeper into your sides and pulled you closer.

“Mmhm,” was your response, as you sucked at the soft spot where her neck and shoulders met. Her fingers contracted again.

“No, really.” Pepper broke off to pant, pushing you up harder up against the wall so she could look you in the eye. It didn’t last long. Whatever she was going to say, she forgot it and your limbs became entangled with hers once again.

That had been happening fairly regularly–pretty much every time you brought her lunch up in the Stark Industries CEO office. Just as according to the earlier plan, her sandwich and coffee now sat cold on her desk.

Somehow, tangling your fingers into her strawberry hair reminded Pepper of what she was going to say. This time, her eyes were slightly unfocused when she found you.

“Someone is going to see. A cameraman. Or Tony.”

You snorted. With your arms still wrapped gently around her neck, you pulled away. “Tony Stark hasn’t been by since he appointed you CEO. Besides, it’s not like this would bother him. He’d probably offer us a threesome.”

“And you’d _like_ that?”

“Hell no!” Your head lurched forward and you smashed your lips against Pepper’s. She groaned when your tongue slipped into her mouth. When you were finished, you pulled away with a devilish smirk. “It’s only your being CEO that turns me on so much. Must be something about the power.”

Pepper rolled her eyes, but stuck her knee in between your legs as she smashed you into the wall again.

“You’re lucky it turns me on, too.”


	29. Seduce [Steve Rogers]

Sometimes Steve thought the time he'd landed in was strange. For example, no one there batted an eye when anyone slept with someone they weren’t married to. Other times, Steve thought the time he'd landed in might be strange but better. For example, they had very good cereal.

The Lucky Charms clattered into his empty bowl. Steve was beginning to think he might get addicted to the colorful marshmallows. A good thing, too, since it seemed to be the only breakfast food stocked at your house. At least his high metabolism meant they wouldn’t put a kink in his training.

The grey-blue light filling the room told him it was far too early for you to be awake. Steve had already been out for a run around the city and back. In the room above his head, he knew, you remained curled into your sheets. He didn’t mind. It gave him some time to process.

A quiet squelch accompanied his opening of the refrigerator to retrieve some milk. He opened the carton and sniffed carefully (you weren’t exactly known for being on the ball when it came to throwing out rotting food) before pouring it onto his cereal. As Steve wandered to the small wooden table, he thought. He’d been worried last night, when it came down to it. But it had been good–better than good, just like Tony said.

On top of that, it didn’t seem to mean much to you. Maybe that was what was bothering him. Where Steve had come from, finally sleeping with you would have been a big deal. Now, although you seemed pleased, he wondered if maybe the moment wasn’t special at all.

But no. Deep down, Steve knew that wasn’t it. He knew what the problem was. He couldn’t stop worrying. What if something happened and you broke up with him? Or he with you? And what if your new flame didn’t approve of what you’d done? And what if that forced you to be all alone while he, Steve, could do nothing? What if it was all his fault?

And so he knew what he had to do next time you offered. No matter how much fun he’d had, no matter how much he’d enjoyed the experience, he had to tell you no. For your sake and for his own conscience.

“Mm…Steve?” The murmur was joined by the sound of padding bare feet against the carpet and when Steve looked up, there you were. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes and wearing his slightly wrinkled shirt from the night before, you yawned and leaned against the door frame.

“Yes?”

“You were gone. I worried.”

“Sorry, [Name]. I just–”

“When you’re finished with breakfast, come back to bed?”

Steve swallowed. Goodness, the way that shirt was clinging to your curves. “Um…”

You blinked up at him and he knew all was lost. “Please?”

He couldn’t help the grin that broke across his face. “I’ll be right there.”


	30. The Devil in Me [Tony Stark]

“Tony, you know I have to call my parents sometime.”

Tony’s eyes remained glued to television, even though the story about your sudden disappearance at your own high-profile wedding was over and the newscaster had moved on to discussing new recycling plans for the city. Still, he must have heard you because he shrugged agitatedly.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes,” you pressed, “I do.” From your angle lounging in the corner of the couch, you could see Tony roll his eyes. It had been a nice week, hanging around Stark Tower in your pajamas with him, but your parent’s irritation was quickly fading into worry. Apparently sensing your nearing dip in emotions, Tony set the remote down and turned toward you.

“Why?”

You sighed and pulled your hoodie further down your forehead. “If they don’t hear from me soon, Dad is going to press charges. People are starting to notice you disappeared around the same time I did.”

“He’ll press charges anyway,” said Tony. “It doesn’t matter. I think I’ve got enough money to handle it.”

“Dad does, too.”

“Stark Industries has more.” Your shoulders hunched a bit. It wasn’t that you wanted to speak your parents, really, but you’d never been able to handle their disappointment–and skipping out on your wedding was a big one. Tony tugged you into his side, pushed the hood of your jacket away from your face, and kissed your forehead. “If I let you go do that, how do I know Frank and your parents won’t lure you again into their nefarious clutches?”

Despite your feelings of sadness, you laughed, pulled his head down to your level, and kissed his lips. “I think you’ve got first dibs,” you said as you lifted your left hand. A thin silver band wrapped around your ring finger. Tony winked.

“Excellent choice of wedding bands, by the way.”

“Yeah, go ahead, give yourself a pat on the back.”

“I think I’ll wait for tonight for you to do that for me.” You groaned and Tony patted your head. “You know, for a woman, you are surprisingly bad at all things wedding related.”

“Yeah, well–” A tinny beeping sound interrupted you. Your mouth closed as you looked for its source. “Tony, I think your phone is going off.”

“It’s not mine.”

The blood drained from your face. “Oh no,” you squealed as you overturned the papers and cups littering the coffee table. “Oh no!”

Tony shifted to sit up and watch you. “Why are you answering now? It’s rung before.”

“I can’t keep ignoring them,” you answered frantically. “They’re my _parents_.”

“They also sold you to the highest bidder. Not exactly great at their job, are they?”

But you couldn’t hear him. Your heart was beating too loudly in your ears. At last, you found the tiny silver object, lit up and shaking, underneath yesterday’s newspaper. You only had time to grasp it in your hands before Tony pulled it away from you.

“But–”

He gave you a sidelong wink. “Let me handle this.”

Before you could protest (and you certainly would have protested), he hit the answer button. With ice in your veins, you listened as he leaned casually back into the cream-colored cushions and spoke:

“You’ve reached the cell phone of Mrs. [Name] Stark. [Name] can’t come to the phone right now. May I take a message?”

“Mrs. STARK?” You heard your dad shout. Tony shot you another wink, hit the speaker button, and placed your phone on the table.

“Yes, Mrs. Stark. You’re speaking to her husband. How may I help you?”

“What did you do to my daughter, Stark?!”

“Hm, I’d say I saved her from an unwanted life of dejection at your hands.”

“Life of–” You could imagine his face so clearly: red as a lobster, with sweat pouring down the sides. “I’ll have you know you interrupted a very lucrative business acquisition, Stark!”

“[Name] isn’t a game piece,” Tony said almost lazily. “I’ll never understand why you persist in thinking of her as one.”

“I’ll ask you again. What have you done with my daughter?”

“I haven’t done anything to her. In fact, she’s sitting right next to me. You can speak to her, if you want. The question remains whether or not she wants to speak to you.”

His dark eyes met yours. You took in a shaky breath, but gave a small nod. Tony smiled warmly in response and squeezed your wrist.

“Daddy?”

“[Name]?” You could hear several emotions in your father’s voice, all ones you expected. Of course he was relieved to find you, but he didn’t care that he found you unharmed. “What are you _doing_?”

“I’m, um…” Tony caught your eye and gave you an encouraging nod. “I’m on my honeymoon,” you said more confidently.

“ _Honeymoon?!_ ”

“Yes, my honeymoon. I–I married Tony.”

“You married Anthony Stark? After everything your mother and I warned you about concerning him, you _married_ the bastard?!”

“I didn’t want to marry Frank, Daddy.” Your throat felt tight. Why did your throat feel so tight? “I only agreed to to make you and Mom happy.”

“And why _didn’t_ you?”

The lead covering your heart made it drop into your stomach. You’d always suspected your parents had such feelings about their only (and very disappointing) daughter, but to hear these feelings confirmed made you feel like a giant, throbbing bruise. “I wanted to be _happy_.” The rasp in your voice betrayed you.

“Happy? You want to be _happy_?” Each word your father spoke felt like a blow. Without thinking, you drew your knees into your chest and began to pick at your toes.

“I wanted to be happy,” you said again. “I want to live for myself for once.”

There was a very long pause, and in it you could hear the entire Tower buzzing with energy. Even Tony remained quiet. Maybe he was waiting for your father’s response, too. If he was, you wondered if the one you got satisfied _him_ anymore than it did him:

“In that case, neither I nor your mother want to hear from you again. And don’t you dare sell this story to the media or you and your ‘husband’ will find yourself spending the rest of your honeymoon in court!”

He wasn’t using a regular phone, so his abrupt hang up made no noise. Still, you could tell when he did by the sudden silence on the other end and the bright numbers flashing on your phone. For a moment, neither you nor Tony spoke. Finally, you felt a gentle hand brush against your upper arm.

“Hey,” Tony began, but before he could continue, a sob wrenched from your throat as you threw yourself into his chest. There was a pause before you felt his hands rubbing circles on your back. “Hey.” His lips brushed gently at the space behind your neck.

“How could–he–I–”

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m here. And I’m never going to leave.”


	31. I Don't Wanna Know [Phil Coulson]

That day was just _not_ your day, not your day at all. Despite your having been there for nearly three hours, Stark Tower was a complete mess.

The banner you had so painstakingly painted the night before? Ripped slightly and hanging from only one end of the ceiling–the place where the other end _should_ have been was nothing but a huge dent made by Thor’s hammer. Apparently he hadn’t stopped there with his decorating, either.

Natasha and Tony? Nowhere to be seen. But there _was_ a large amount of his alcohol missing, and they’d been talking about a drinking contest for weeks. You’d seen them briefly earlier, Tony practically asleep and Natasha complaining of a headache.

The cake? Currently nothing but a smeared blast across the remains of one wall. The rest of the kitchen area had all the other signs of a Hulk attack.

Clint? Still unconscious. One of his blaster arrows could be found near where Bruce had been carefully icing said cake. The rest were littered across the room and walls.

And poor Steve? He was still trying to _understand_ the situation.

All you had wanted was a surprise party set up. That wasn’t such a big request, was it? They all liked Phil. You’d thought they would _want_ to help celebrate his birthday. Instead, all that was left of his celebration was wreckage and some unsalvageable dessert.

It wasn’t even worth it. When Phil arrived, as your note requested, all he did was take one look around himself and shake his head. You opened your mouth to explain, but Phil held up a hand.

“I don’t even want to know.”


	32. Crimson [Clint Barton]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THIS MAKES NO SENSE...AND IT'S REALLY GORY. 
> 
> It was inspired by Loki's little speech to Natasha, because I'm intrigued by things like that. Someone just last week read this and asked me if I was okay. I assured them that I was, but now that I've read this for the first time in years, I'm...not really sure? WTF was wrong with you, past!me? Chill out a little bit every now and then.
> 
> Part one of two.

Blood. Blood was everywhere. It stuck to the walls, dripped from the counter, splattered across the cheery photos sitting on the shelves. But bleeding sometimes happened on missions. This was just another mission. Everything around you was just another mess for lower-ranking agents to clean up.

Except it wasn’t. All of this was _your_ blood.

The remaining stump of your tongue thrashed against the walls of your mouth as you tried to articulate a scream. Whatever came out of your throat was just a horrible, mangled shriek, made all the worse by the fact the man in front of you didn’t even look bothered by it.

“Sorry, [Name],” Clint Barton said casually. He held your hand in his hand, something you would have loved–if the man you were in love with hadn’t been sawing off another one of your fingers. “We can’t have you tracking us down and I know how determined you are.”

Your pathetic whimper didn’t cause so much as a batted eye. The thoughts in your brain were slowed and deadened by pain and fear, but there was a tiny, desperate part hoping this was a nightmare.

But it couldn’t be a nightmare. No nightmare had ever hurt this much.

Finally it occurred to you that you couldn’t just sit there. You couldn’t just allow Clint to incapacitate you more than he already had. There’d been sparring matches you’d beaten him at before. Thinking along these lines, you drew your legs to your chest just as Clint severed the last finger you owned from the stump of your hand. The rest now littered the blood-splattered tile around you.

“I don’t think so,” he said in that same strangely calm manner. Without even looking, he flicked an arrow from his quiver and brought it straight through your thigh, pinning you to the floor. The little strength you had remaining sent you folding into yourself with another wordless scream. Clint pushed you back onto the ground, then started to screw another arrowhead into one of his long black shafts. Your tear-filled eyes sputtered betrayal as you found his own blue, icy gaze.

“You always said how much this would scare you, huh?” He asked conversationally and settled into a more comfortable position at your side. “If you couldn’t speak anymore; if you lost your abilities; if you died alone.”

A mumble erupted out of you and that caused something of a smile to flicker across his face. The cold spread further through your chest, but you continued to try to speak. You weren’t sure why, when all you could taste was blood and rust and the bile from when Clint had punched you in the stomach. As if he could read your mind, Clint nodded.

“Yeah, I know. At least you don’t have to do the alone part, right?” He patted your stomach gently, smoothed the hair from your face, leaned down to give you a kiss. “I love you.”

All you could manage in return was a sob. He patted your stomach again, just once, and stood, bow already docked, the arrow pointed straight toward your eye.

“I always said I wouldn’t let that happen.” Clint shrugged. “But I’ve got a job to do and the boss says you’re interfering.” He hesitated and you weren’t sure if you were relived or horrified–what good was him letting you live like this? But then he shrugged again and his strange new manner was back. “One out of three isn’t bad, right?”

You were dead before you had the chance to answer.


	33. Loaded Smile [Natasha Romanoff]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Cackle...

And so Natasha did what Natasha did best–or at least _one_ of the things she did best: she watched. When you and Clint had lunch together, when you fell asleep on the couch in the break room and he carried you back to his quarters, when he got a cut and you patched him up (badly) while he laughed. Natasha supposed that she was glad that you were happy, but she didn’t much want any part of that happiness.

“Natasha!”

But you were co-workers. She couldn’t avoid you forever. Natasha turned to see you skipping down the hallway toward her, hair flying behind you and a smile on your face. She stopped.

“What is it, [Name]?”

“Nothing,” you chirped as you fell into step beside her. “It’s just been awhile since I saw you. I wanted to say hi.”

“Hi,” Natasha said shortly. “Where’s Clint?”

“In a meeting with Fury,” you answered with a wave in the air. “Something classified. I was unceremoniously dismissed.”

“I’m…sorry.”

“Don’t be. I know I'm not high enough ranked yet to get to know the big stuff.” You laughed and Natasha blinked. Your unquashable optimism, while something she could never understand, was certainly something she liked. Now, with this new…whatever it was (Natasha refused to call it a crush), simply seeing you smile was enough to drive her crazy. 

“You’ll get there eventually,” Natasha said half-distractedly with her gaze on your lips.

“Natasha?”

“Hm?”

“Actually,” you paused to shuffle your feet, “there was something I wanted to ask you.”

The pair of you were quickly nearing the end of the hallway. As Natasha did not particularly relish the idea of continuing her conversation with you in the station she was headed toward, she stepped into another hallway when it branched. “What is it?”

“Well…” You took a deep breath and looked directly at her. “Clint thinks you might have a crush. On–On me.”

Natasha’s eyes widened. A slow blush was working its way up your neck and into your cheek and all she could think of was that she was going to have to kill Clint for figuring it out.

“That’s…ridiculous.”

This time, your laugh was weak. “Yeah, I thought so. Jeez.” You gave a stronger laugh and twiddled with the ends of your hair. “You must think I’m such an idiot.”

“...Dammit.”

And without explaining her expletive, Natasha threw you up against the wall and covered your confusion with her lips.


	34. Last Chance [Thor Odinson]

It had taken hours-although it felt more like days-constant reiteration of the rules, practice rounds again and again. This time, though, you knew Thor could _finally_ do it.

"Ready?" you asked as you held out your fist. 

Thor looked dubious, but reached out his own. "Ready."

"Rock-Paper-Scissors-Lizard-Spock," you chanted. At the end, you triumphantly thrust out a lizard. Thor continued to leave his fist in the air as he stared at your hand. "Uh. Thor? You gonna stick with that rock there?"

"That depends," he said slowly. "What does rock do?"

The rest of the group around you groaned. Even Natasha fell back onto the couch with her face in her hands.

"Really?" Bruce mumbled. "Really?"

"I am sorry," Thor said, and had the grace to look sheepish. "I do not understand this strange Midgardian custom of choosing things."

Steve heaved a sigh.

"Okay, you know what?" Tony got to his feet. "We're done. You and Blondie here should have settled this hours ago. We're just going to watch--"

"No one wants to watch another documentary about you, Stark," Steve said into his palms. The rest of the group made noises of agreement. Tony, apparently thinking that that was somehow _your_ fault, glowered at you and gestured at Thor.

"By all means, spend the rest of our lives trying to teach an immortal dog new tricks."

You narrowed your own eyes in response. Thor had to wave his free hand in front of your eye to bring your focus back to him.

"[Name]?"

This time, it was _you_ that sighed. "Scissor cuts paper; paper covers rock; rock crushes lizard; lizard poisons Spock; Spock smashes scissors; scissors decapitate lizard; lizard eats paper; paper disproves Spock; Spock vaporizes rock, and rock crushes scissors." You made a cutting motion with two fingers in the air. "Got it?"

Thor beamed. "I understand completely. Thank you, [Name]."

"No problem." You sat up straight once more. "Let's just get this over with before I have to listen to another eight hours about the Stark Expo. Ready?"

"Hey, I'm just saying," Tony called. "Last chance. You guys don't decide this round, we're doing what I want to do. My tower, my rules."

"Ready?" you asked again without even showing any sign that you had heard him. Thor nodded.

"I am prepared!"

"Rock-Paper-Scissors-Lizard-Spock!"

You held up Spock. Thor continued to hold up rock. This time, however, he looked delighted.

"I win!"

"What?" You looked from your hand to his. "No, you don't. Spock vaporizes rock."

"But Spock is an alien not of Asgard." You nodded. "And a rock is of Midgard."

"Um...so?"

"The only things that can defeat those of Midgard are those of Asgard! Thus, the victory is mine."

You stared. And stared. And stared some more. Finally, without taking his eyes off the still-blank television, Bruce spoke up:

"He still doesn't get it."

Looked like you'd get to spend your night learning about Stark Industries again after all.


	35. Don't Deny It [Loki Laufeyson]

Loki had always been a bit different: a bit more magic than muscle, a bit more tricky than truthful, a bit more bitter than sweet.

But for all your years in his company, you never imagined you'd have to see his face through a set of bars.

"So they decided to send you to break me," Loki breathed, his grin as fragile as glass. You weren't sure how long he had known you were there. Perhaps the entire time, as silent as you had been trying to remain. Still, as his green eyes caught the little light that filtered into his cell, you stepped forward. "I should have known."

"Break you? Why would they ask me to break you" you asked.

"Oh." Loki chuckled. "I think you know."

In response, you shook your head, you pale fingers fluttering out to brush against the door of his cell. "What happened to you?"

"What happened to me?" he echoed. "What happened to _me_? What happened to _you_?"

"Getting Thor exiled," you said without answering him. "Trying to kill him and our friends. Destroying the Frost Giants. Murdering hundreds of innocent Midgardians." You lifted your gaze to meet his. "You've changed."

That got his ire. Loki strode forward, his darkened expression suddenly flooded with the light of the chamber you stood in. "I have not changed!" His shout was so loud that you stumbled backward. Though he couldn't get himself any closer to you, Loki clenched his hands around the bars of his cell and grimaced down at you. "I have simply learned what I truly am!"

"A Frost Giant?" you said calmly, getting to your feet and gathering your skirts around you along with your wits. "Thor told me. Loki, you cannot believe-"

They told you!" He barked out another wild laugh. "Of course they did! You're Thor's little lapdog now, aren't you?"

"Loki, you are speaking madness. I would never-"

"Don't deny it!" Loki shouted. "You helped them. You helped them all. And you would send me back into exile as soon as you could just to be rid of me. Just like my damned family!"

"What are you saying? Thor loves you! He-He adores you. And Odin-"

"All of it was lies, wasn't it, [Name]?" His voice dropped to regular volume, his smile returned to something close to normal as he stepped backward and away from you. "The truth comes out. Everything we shared, it was all a lie so you could watch me, spy on me for my family."

"What?" Hurt colored your tone." No. Loki-Loki, I-"

"Don't say it." He held up a hand. "I don't want to hear that you love me. Not anymore. You lied to me, just like everyone else."

You pressed a hand to your heart and moved forward again. "Loki-"

He whirled around. "Get out of my sight! I never want to see you again!"

A shaky breath escaped your lips, but:

"If that is what you wish, my liege."

All he did was watch you, as you bowed and left the room.


	36. Quicksand [Bruce Banner]

When you first met Dr. Bruce Banner, you'd hated his guts. Physicist work was _your_ work at Stark Industries and you didn't appreciate his usurpation. Not that Tony noticed as he shoved the man forward into your work space.

"Look, [Name]! I brought you a souvenir: a partner!"

You would have preferred a "my boss saved the world and all I got was this lousy t-shirt" t-shirt, and you knew it must have been apparent in the way your lips curled as you shook Dr. Banner's hand. Tony just grinned, slapped the two of you on the backs, and left with a cheery:

"You two kids play nice now!"

You had _not_ played nice. You'd glowered and sulked and pouted and glared. Dr. Banner didn't try to stop you. He just did his work in silence and only deigned to speak when he needed help finding a tool.

But something strange happened one day and it was something you never could quite figure out. Things between the two of you just seemed to shift.

"What do you say we take a break and go get lunch?" Dr. Banner interrupted the quiet to ask. You looked up from your holo-screen to glare at him.

"Why are you asking _me_?"

"Because you don't do anything other than work. You seem lonely."

Your eyes widened. Dr. Banner eyed you calmly in return. Then you slammed your palms onto the table and left the room.

But it bothered you that he noticed something so easily that you thought you had been hiding so well. You didn't go back to work after your lunch break that day, but spent the rest of the afternoon grouching at home, ranting to your goldfish about how exactly much you hated Dr. Banner. Slowly, your rage turned to embarrassment. You'd been taking out your feelings of inadequacy on a man that had been nothing but polite to you.

"About that lunch," you said the next day. Dr. Banner looked away from his notes. "I-I'm sorry I snapped at you. Maybe we could go today?"

He smiled. "I'd like that.


	37. Sleepwalk [Bruce Banner]

When Bruce woke up, there was someone in his bed. This wasn't altogether a strange occurrence, but he was quite certain he had gone to bed alone four hours ago. Trying not to feel too concerned, he wiggled halfway out of the sheets and then peeled those beside him back.

Curled up in a ball halfway down the mattress was you. Bruce frowned. Had he gone to bed alone the night before? Yes, he was sure he had. He'd been up with Tony until one working on some new clean energy designs, with no chance to call and see if you had made it home all right.

"Um, [Name]?" He nudged you softly with his hand. The ball of a woman simply shuddered slightly at his touch. Bruce tried again. "[Name]?"

Your eyelids fluttered and a small groan worked its way free of your throat as you stretched yourself out of your fetal position.

"Five more minutes," you mumbled as you flipped over. Bruce shook your shoulder.

"Um, is there any particular reason you're asleep in my bed?"

You opened your eyes completely at that. They darted across the unfamiliar walls and ceiling. Then you looked at him, cheeks already cherry-red.

"Oh, no."

"Is everything okay?"

"Fine!" You sat up and shuffled your feet against the carpet beneath you. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry, Bruce."

"Are you sure you're okay?" You certainly weren't acting like it. "Are you sick?"

"No! No, I'm not. I'm sorry for waking you up."

"But why are you _here_?"

You looked at him. Bruce simply looked back. At last, you took a deep breath and answered:

"I...have a problem." His eyebrows rose at that, so you continued quickly, "It's not a big deal. I just...sleepwalk...sometimes. I guess I was thinking about you so much that my legs took me here without me making them."

"Ah," Bruce said, as if that explained things. The color in your cheeks deepened and you stood up.

"I'm so sorry. I'll go home now."

But you didn't get far before he took your wrist. "Look, you're already here and I missed you, too. Besides, it's dangerous to be wandering around at five in the morning in your pajamas. Why don't you just stay the night?"

You paused before turning your head slightly to look at him. Your cheeks were beginning to fade back to their original color. "You sure?"

"Positive." You crawled back into bed as Bruce shifted to his side. As you snuggled back into the covers, he chuckled and shifted you so he could tuck you into his chest. Before you fell back to sleep, he planted a kiss behind your ear and whispered, "And maybe if this is going to be a frequent problem, you should just move in."


	38. Oath [Steve Rogers]

As soon as the ceremony started, Steve was lost. Weeks of nerves, of having to figure out what color blue looked best with his eyes, of wondering why his fiancée was suddenly having panic attacks every other day faded away. It all seemed worth it when he saw you walking down the aisle.

He barely had time to nod when your older brother handed you over with a smile. He couldn't even hear the priest welcoming everyone to this celebration of love. One look into your eyes and all Steve could think of was how lucky he was.

"Captain Rogers?" said the priest two minutes later-or maybe an hour. Steve could not help but start slightly at this interruption.

"Y-Yes?" he asked, without taking his eyes off of you.

The priest sighed and Steve caught one end of your mouth quirk up as the man prompted him again:

"Captain Rogers, do you take [Name] to be your wedded wife, to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love, comfort, honor and keep her, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health and forsaking all others, be faithful only to her so long as you both shall live?"

"Oh!" Steve looked at him for one brief second before taking your fingers and staring again. "I do. Of course I do."

"Very well." The priest closed his book and gestured at you. "You may now kiss the bride."

Needless to say, he didn't have to tell Steve twice.


	39. Strut [Clint Barton]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is all single-line paragraphs for no adequately explored reason! GR9!
> 
> Also, it is not continued from the previous Clint one shot. Should be safe to read, if you don't mind inanities.

"Barton at two o' clock!"

"Heads up, [Name]!"

"Ah, what?" You froze with your hands around the paperwork you were supposed to be delivering to Director Fury and looked wildly around the Division One offices. "Barton? _Now_?"

"Hahaha, yep!" One of the two boys manning the office grinned. "You got your makeup on? All ready to see your dream guy?"

"No," you wailed. "I didn't think he'd-I thought he was in Bangladesh!"

"Well, yeah, he _was_ ," said the boy with a smirk. His friend wandered over to rest his elbow on his friend's shoulder as he winked at you.

" _Last_ week."

"Oh, no!" You ran several steps to the left, then several to the right. There was no escape. "I have to get out of here! Let me hide under your desk!"

"I don't think so," said the first boy as he pushed you back toward the door. "You've been mooning after Barton ever since you started working here. You should at least introduce yourself."

"But-"

"Is there a problem in here?" A hush fell over you and your two companions. Slowly, each of you turned and there was Clint Barton, standing in the doorway, looking bemused.

"Hey, Barton," said the second boy. "How was Bangladesh?"

"Oh, you know. Bangladesh-ish." Clint shrugged, then narrowed his eyes at you. You could feel the blush climbing from your toes to your hairline. "Who's this?"

The two boys exchanged knowing looks and practically sprinted for the door. "We'll leave you two alone to get to know each other."

"Yeah, we just remembered we've got important business with Coulson. Can't wait. Bye!"

The sound of their feet retreating didn't last long. Clint eyed their backs curiously, then looked at you, mouth slightly open, as if he were about to ask you what in the hell that was about.

"Hi," you managed to say. "I'm--"

"[F Name] [L Name]." Clint grinned as he settled into a leaning position against one of the vacated desks. "I know."

"...Huh?" you asked, very intelligently. Clint's smile only grew broader.

"I already know who you are. I just wanted to get those two knuckleheads out of here for a few minutes."

"I-Um...why?"

"Because," he answered and looked at the ceiling, then back at you. "You don't seem like the kind of girl that likes to be asked out in front of people."

Your mouth fell open for several seconds before you were able to pop it back shut. "W-Wh-What?"

"Do you want to go to dinner with me?" Clint asked, his eyes sparkling.

"You-You're asking me out? You? _You're_ asking _me_ out?"

"Did I not make that clear with my invitation to dinner?" He cocked his head to one side as he observed you. "Is that a yes or a no?"

"Yes!" you blurted. Realizing what you had just done, you clapped a hand over your mouth before you continued, "I mean, um, yes. Thank you."

"Cool." Clint nodded once and then opened the door. "Pick you up at seven tonight?"

"O-Okay."

Clint strutted away. You could only stare after him, mouth agape once more. At least until it became obvious the moment hadn't been as private as Clint hoped.

"Don't forget to take those papers to Fury, [Name]!" called one of the boys.

"Yeah, or you can forget about your little date!"

"I'm going," you grumbled. But there was still a _little_ spring to your step, too.


	40. Like Knifes [Loki Laufeyson]

Quiet was his prescription, everyone on Asgard decided; quiet and a lot of restriction on when and where Loki could go. He didn't really mind too much-at least they let his girlfriend stay. She was, after all, considered a "good influence."

"Loki!" The door to his room burst open, causing the demigod to drop his book onto his chest. Whoever thought [Name] could be considered quiet was absolutely mad, as indicated by the fact that you were now bouncing excitedly up and down on your knees on top of his bed. "Loki! Guess what!"

"What?" he asked as he picked up his book.

"I heard from Thor." Loki froze, but you went on, oblivious. "He said Tony finished the Tower! He asked us to come visit!"

Loki could not quite believe what he was hearing. It might have been a good year and a half since his attack on Earth, but that didn't mean he had forgiven his brother. "No," he said and went back to his book.

"What?" He had to resist rolling his eyes at the tears in your voice. "But I want to."

"Yes, well, I don't. I'm quite happy here on Asgard, being chaperoned constantly by you or Odin. Or Thor, when the mightiest of warriors deigns to visit his home."

"You're always like this." You stopped bouncing, sat down, and crossed your arms over your chest. "It'll be fun. All those guys want to see you. You're friends."

"They are not," Loki said with a bitter laugh, "my friends."

"Fine, they're mine. And I miss them."

"No means no, [Name]. Why would I want to visit Earth anyway? I hate the stupid place."

You fell silent and began to pick at your fingernails. Figuring that was the end of it, Loki started to read again.

" _I'm_ from Earth."

He sighed. "[Name], that's not what I meant."

"Then what _did_ you mean?"

"I meant-" You began to cry in earnest. "No, [Name], please don't cry. I didn't mean that I thought _you_ were stupid or that I hated you or-"

"But that's what you _said_."

Loki pressed his lips together in a line and watched as you wiped at the tears spilling from your eyes. After a rather drawn out minute, he scooted closer and wrapped his arms around you.

"That was foolish of me. If there is anything on or from Earth that I do _not_ find awful, it is you."

You replied with a sniff, then:

"Thanks."

"I just do not want to go visit my blasted brother or his silly little team. I do not think I am quite ready for that yet and I rather do not want to be thrown into prison for questioning again."

"But I miss my home," you said, though Loki was relieved to hear your words were less watery. "I haven't been there since we left."

"You could have gone with Thor."

"And leave you behind? I don't think so."

Loki grumbled and let his chin rest on your shoulder. "I still don't want to see them."

"Can we still go home?"

"I don't think Odin will--"

"No, no, listen!" You wiggled out of Loki's grip and started to bounce on his bed again. "I have a plan!"

"I...do not like the sound of that."

"It's a good plan! What if we go visit my parents? I could introduce you!" Loki's eyes widened. "No, it'll be okay. They live near Manhattan. I can go visit the guys and my parents can keep an eye on you. That way, you don't have to go but _I_ can."

"I..."

"I wanted to introduce you to them anyway. I mean, you're the reason I had to move so far away and all, but I think they'll like you once we get past that."

"And you won't tell Odin I went unsupervised?" He quirked an eyebrow and you stopped moving.

"I won't tell," you said, brushing your fingers down his cheek, "if you promise not to go on another murdering spree."

"One little murder?" Loki held up two fingers, spaced only a millimeter apart. "Maybe two?"

The color drained from your face. "No! No murders!"

"I was kidding, [Name]." He drew you into his arms again.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"So it's a deal?"

He paused to breathe in the scent coming from your hair. "It's a deal."


	41. Sink Into Me [Pepper Potts]

"I really, _really_ can't handle one more thing right now," a muffled voice said as you shifted the CEO office door shut behind you. For a moment, you couldn't figure out where it came from. Then you noticed the pool of red hair on the desk by the window.

"I can see that, actually," you answered.

"Then why aren't you _leaving_?"

"You mean you can't handle _me_ right now?" You finished walking to the desk and mock pouted at Pepper's head. "That's cold, Miss Potts."

"I don't care if it's cold. I'm being run ragged. And if I have to deal with anything else right now, I might actually kill someone."

"Can't you kill Tony instead? _He_ gave you this job. It wasn't me."

There was a pause before she said raggedly: "Just. Leave."

"But I brought you cooooffeeeee." You wiggled the cup right next to her head, filling the surrounding area with the aroma of roasted beans. For a moment, Pepper remained completely still. Then she raised her head in one swift motion and held out her hand.

"Give it to me."

"Uh-Uh-Uh." You took a step backward, causing Pepper to glower at you. "What are the magic words?"

"How about, 'I'll ask security to remove you if you don't give me the damn coffee'?"

You pretended to consider that for a minute. "Close. Try again."

She huffed and pressed her forehead back down into her arms. "I'll wear that outfit you got me tonight."

"Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding! We have a winner." You placed the cup near her elbow. 

"Thank you,"" Pepper said primly as she lifted her head and picked up her coffee.

"No problem," you called over your shoulder as you left. "And I can't wait to see you tonight!"

"Come again and the answer really will be asking security to remove you!" she called back.

You laughed and flashed her a smile and a wink before the door closed. "Duly noted."


	42. Desperate [Phil Coulson]

Phil Coulson may have been one of the best and brightest agents S.H.I.E.L.D. had to offer, but he wasn't very observant when it came to women. You'd been flirting with him for the past five years, and still all he had to offer in return was a vague nod. You were only just starting to despair when Tony and Pepper came to the rescue.

"What's all this?" you asked as you entered their kitchen. Tony looked bored. Pepper looked thrilled. She stepped forward to guide you to the table.

"We have really good news!"

"Um...you two aren't pregnant...right?" You took a seat as Pepper did the same in the chair across from yours. 

She shook her head and grinned. "No, we've fixed your little Phil problem!"

"I...have a Phil problem?" You looked to Tony, who shrugged and dug something out of his ear. While he examined the something, you returned your attention to Pepper. "I have a Phil problem?"

"Tony and I came up with a way to get him to notice you," Pepper explained. She pushed a tiny rectangular item across the table. "It's fool-proof."

With a frown on your face, you flipped the rectangle over. Sitting there, on the gleaming metal table of the Stark Tower's kitchen, was a gently glimmering card featuring the image of a young man in a ridiculous blue outfit.

"Is this...a Captain America trading card?"

"It's the last one he needs for his collection!" Pepper said, grinning. "We checked."

" _I_ checked," said Tony. "Amazing the kind of information you S.H.I.E.L.D. people keep tabs on in your database. Terrible encryption, by the way. I think Hammer could probably hack it and that's saying some-"

Pepper silenced him with a look.

"Oh, but..." You trailed away and shook your head as you slid the card back to Pepper. "His collection is so extensive. This must have cost a small fortune."

"It was no big deal."

"Actually," Tony said as he wandered over to stand beside her, "it cost around six hund-oof!"

Pepper had stepped on this foot. "It was no big deal."

"Thanks, but this feels like cheating."

"It's not cheating," Tony said. "It's leveling the playing field."

The two of them held their breaths. You looked between each of their faces, Tony's mildly disinterested and Pepper's enthusiastic, and slowly reached for the card. Without waiting for more encouragement, you snatched it up from the table and sprinted from the room.

"Thanks, guys! I owe you!"

"Yes, you d--oof!"

She had stepped on his foot again.


	43. Therapy [Natasha Romanoff]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Loaded Smile...

"Thanks. A lot."

Natasha supposed she should have expected a confrontation. It wasn't often that you could get away with making out with someone in the hallways of work without getting interrupted-and interrupted you had been. She had been hoping she wouldn't have to have this conversation with you anytime soon all the same, but she kept her cool and her gaze on her work as she responded with:

"I take it Barton found out?"

"Found out?" Your voice rose as you strode into her work area. "Found out? He was the one who _saw_ us!"

"I'm sorry," Natasha said simply. "I didn't mean for him to."

"It doesn't matter what you meant to happen!" you shouted. She looked up at your tone and found herself surprised. Far from the normal, happy-go-lucky, socially awkward ball of pep that you were normally, right then your limbs were shaking, your face was red, and tears were running down your cheeks. As soon as she spotted you, you sunk into a chair and started to cry. "He broke up with me."

"I'm sorry," Natasha said again. Was there something else you expected her to say?

"I don't care if you're sorry. Clint broke up with me. Why would you kiss me? You've never once shown any indication that you had feelings for me!"

"Because I don't." Natasha's dark eyes bore into your own. "I only want to sleep with you."

Your mouth fell open and your hand twisted around fistfuls of your uniform. Natasha simply blinked, waiting for your to react.

"Well, the feeling isn't mutual!" You got to your feet and stormed off. As you wrenched the door open, you turned toward her once more. "And, again, thanks a whole lot!"

Not _quite_ the reaction Natasha had been expecting.


	44. Don't Forget; Lock the Door [Tony Stark]

Dating and living with Tony Stark had its advantages, enough to fill dozens of books on envy. But it also had disadvantages, namely the fact that you could get attacked at any given moment.

"Hey JARVIS," you shouted over the blaring music. Tony was out hero-ing with the guys and, stuck at home with nothing to do, you'd decided to have a bit of a one-woman party down in the basement laboratory. "Was that the phone?"

"Yes, I believe it's Mr. Stark calling for you."

"Oh! Cut the track and put him on!" JARVIS didn't wait to carry out your orders. As soon as you gave them, the music ground to a halt and Tony's voice crackled into your phone.

"[Name]," he said quickly, "has anything unusual happened tonight?"

Thinking that he meant you finally learning to hack in the music you wanted, you decided to play dumb. "Unusual? No... _Should_ something unusual have happened?"

"Okay, I guess you're fine right now. But you _did_ lock the door like I asked, right?"

"Um..." You squeezed up your face to think. In the sudden silence, you heard the distinct sound of the front door slamming into the opposite wall. "I'm guessing that wasn't you using your key to get inside?"

Even over the phone, you could tell he had just slapped himself in the face. "[Name], we discussed this. I can't keep you safe if you don't follow proper protocol!"

"Well, pardon me for thinking the streets were clean of evil, Mr. Hero."

"Okay, okay. It doesn't matter. Look, are you somewhere you can see them? Can you tell who they are? Whiplash? Mandarin? Anyone you recognize?"

"No, I'm not. And what does it matter?" Your voice had fallen so that you could barely hear it. Upstairs, people were calling to each other. "It's not like I can tell the difference between your various arch rivals, Tony!"

"This is important!"

"I'm sorry," you snapped as quietly as you could. "It's just that _most_ of them have Iron Man rip-offs of some kind. They sort of start to blur together."

Tony let out a long, low breath. "Where are you?"

"In the basement," you whispered back. From upstairs drifted the sounds of breaking items and indistinct voices. It was only then you remembered Tony had soundproofed his basement lab. If you could hear them...they could get in.

Tony caught your whimper. "What's wrong?"

"I think I _might_ have forgot to lock the basement door, too."

" _What_?"

"I was waiting for the pizza guy," you said. "It's not like a locked door would stop these guys. I mean, the walls are made of glass! What's that gonna do to help?"

For a moment, you heard only silence. Your heart sped as it occurred to you that Tony might have just hung up on you. But two seconds later, he spoke again:

"Okay. Can you move without them noticing?"

"I-I think so."

"Get to the holo-table." You winced at a heavy footstep above your head, but did as you were told. Tony must have calculated how long it would take you to get there, because no sooner had you arrived than did he continue, "Now press your palm into the glass."

"Tony, I-"

"Just do it. Now!"

You threw a worried look toward the open door but smashed your palm into tabletop. A blue light slid down from the tips of your fingers to the base of your palm. "Is something supposed to be happening?"

"Wait for it."

Half a second later, one of the armor pods slid up from the concrete, shimmering in the same blue light as the holo-table next to you.

"Tony..." The covering peeled away, revealing a suit of armor smaller than the others and with a set of very obviously different chest pieces. "What is this?"

"I was going to give it to you for your birthday," Tony said. "But given the situation, I believe now is more pertinent."

With the phone still in your hand, you walked up to the suit of armor and pressed your trembling free one into the silvery casing. "Is it really mine?" you breathed.

"Be amazed later, [Name]. Kind of in the middle of a situation here?"

"Right, right. Sorry. What do I do now?"

"Press the button on the right. JARVIS will do the rest of the suiting up."

"And?"

"And call me when you're done taking out the trash."

"Right! Anything else?" you asked as you pressed said button.

"Yeah. No flying until I get home."

"I can fly, too?" you squealed. Tony answered with stony silence. "I make no promises."

His sigh blasted over the connection. "Just try to survive getting rid of these people first. It's not as easy as I make it look."

"You worry too much." Several blinking lights led you over to a platform. Somehow, the armor followed and started to dismantle itself around you.

"Says the girl who forgot to lock two doors."

"Miss [L Name]," JARVIS interrupted. "I'm going to need you to hang up for now. Mr. Stark may contact you once the suit is on."

"Bye, Tony! See you later. Thanks again for the birthday present."

"Call me RIGHT AFTER," he said again. "And no flying!"

"Yeah, yeah." You hit the end button.

Sure. Like _that_ was gonna happen.


	45. Cynical [Steve Rogers]

It was the age of the second World War. Stories of bombings, deaths, and drafting saturated the news. Even with that tornado of destruction whirling across Europe, the youth of America still liked to get out-and the Stark Expo was _the_ place to be.

Your friend Amelia had practically dragged you there and then to the bar on the lot. After getting your own drink, you busied yourself with observing the comings and goings of those around you. It didn't take long to find what you were looking for; it took less time for Amelia to realize you had fallen silent.

"What are you looking at, [Name]?" your friend asked as she stirred an onion through her cocktail. "As if I don't already know."

You lifted your shoulders in a sigh. "He's just so..."

"Geeky?" Amelia supplied, spinning slowly on her stool to face the crowd herself. "Wimpy? Small?"

"... _Beautiful_ ," you finished.

She snorted. "Steve Rogers is _not_ beautiful." Amelia turned back to the bar and pulled out a compact. With her other hand, she dug around in her purse for her blush. "I'll never understand what you see in him."

"He's nice," you answered without taking your eyes off the man. "Remember that time we went to that movie? And your date started fondling you? Steve _rescued_ you."

"And he got himself beaten so bad his friend over there had to take him to the hospital," Amelia said, clearly unimpressed as she started to brush rogue across her cheeks. "Try again."

"I don't know. I just...I like him. He's sweet. He stands up for what he believes in. He tries so hard."

"Yeah, and he can't even get himself drafted." She snapped her compact shut and looked at you with her lips pursed together. "You're a pretty girl, [Name]. You can do better." Amelia slid off her seat and began walking toward one of the nearby marquees.

"What if I don't want to do better?" you asked as you rushed after her.

"Then you're doomed for a life of shunning and disappointment. I mean, what is he going to do to provide for you? You can't do it all yourself." When you didn't say anything, Amelia turned back toward you. Having been your friend since the pair of you were seven, she could tell her words had upset you. "Look, [Name]..."

"Y-Yeah?" you said without looking her in the eye. Amelia took a deep breath and a placed a hand on your shoulder.

"You wanna talk to Steve Rogers so bad, you go ask him to dance. He's too shy to ask anyone himself."

You worked yourself onto the balls of your feet and smiled. "You think so?"

"I know so. Go on." She made a shooing motion. "Meet you at the Cars of Tomorrow show in thirty, okay?"

"Okay! Thanks, Amelia." You wrapped your arms around your friend in a quick hug then rushed on your way. There! He was over at the drafting pavilion. "Steve!" you called, but too late. Before he even noticed you were there, Steve was led away by a foreign-looking gentleman in glasses.

You never saw him again.


	46. Overdose [Phil Coulson]

"So you're sure that's him? _That's_ the guy you're in love with?"

The noise level in the bar made it difficult to hear your friend, but you caught her disbelieving tone nonetheless. Despite the constant threat of getting your feet smashed by a dancer, you threw a glare over your shoulder. All she did in response was shrug.

"Yes, that's him," you answered testily. 

"Sorry. Doesn't really look like your type."

You had to admit, even from that distance, Phil didn't exactly look comfortable in such a rowdy, casual setting. What was more, he looked weirdly out of place even now that he had changed out of his work clothes. As you wrapped your fingers around your friend's wrist to pull her more quickly through the crowd, you wondered if asking him to come meet your friends here had been a mistake.

"Just try to make a good impression," you said under your breath as the two of you yanked free. 

She snorted. "Yeah, 'cause I'm gonna impress that square."

"Phil isn't a square. He's really nice."

"Yeah, yeah."

Phil smiled as you approached, still dragging your friend behind you. It almost made you stop in your tracks-nearly half a year of dating and he still made your heart quiver and your legs turn to jelly. But you couldn't show Maria that. To cover your tracks, you swung her forward slightly and gestured at Phil.

"Good evening," Phil said without taking his eyes off of you.

"Hey, so glad you could make it!" you said. "Glad you found the place okay."

"Actually, I've seen it once before. Had to follow a couple of guys here last time I was in New Mexico."

Your friend cleared her throat and you started at the noise. "Oh! Sorry. Maria, this is Phil. Phil, this is my friend Maria."

"Nice to meet you," Phil said and shook Maria's hand. "[Name] has told me a lot of stories about you."

"Only the exciting ones, I hope." Maria smirked. "And I hope you two," she turned her body back toward the dance floor, "have a nice time, doing whatever it is people like you do while the rest of us have a good time getting drunk."

"Maria-"

Maria flicked you a wave. "Later, [Name], Phillip."

"Maria!" But she had already melted into the throng and found a couple of dance partners. You sighed and looked back at Phil. He had his hands in his pockets and was surveying you with a bemused expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," you said, "about her. She's really not so bad. She just distrusts most government officials, given her choices in life."

Phil nodded. "Yes, I've seen the records."

"You have?"

That got a chuckle. "No. Believe it or not, I don't have access to all the records in the country. Besides, I doubt a little purchasing of alcohol for minors mishap would be considered under our jurisdiction."

"Oh...right..." You looked down at your feet and started to pluck at a loose thread on your shirt. The awkward silence drew on and on and you felt sweat start to bead on the back of your neck. Phil was going to think you were a total loser. Only total losers spent Thursday nights at bars with their college roommates. "Oh-"

"Would you like to dance?"

You opened your mouth to answer, then cocked your head to one side as you regarded him. "I'm sorry?"

Phil took a step closer. "Would you like to dance?" He held out a hand and your gaze fell upon it. "We are at a bar. Seems appropriate."

"Are-Are you sure?"

"[Name], I am not a complete stick in the mud."

"No, I know that. I just...you don't think I'm a total loser?"

He only grabbed your hand without waiting for you take his. Before he spoke again, you were already surrounded by moving bodies once more. "Now, why would I think that?"


	47. Eccentric [Natasha Romanoff]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Therapy, and this is officially the end of that particular "story."

"Okay, Barton. This has got to stop."

If Natasha's sudden appearance hadn't got Clint's attention, the murderous glint in her eyes certainly would. Even though his expression remained dour, he looked up. Natasha crossed her arms over her chest.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"You and [Name]. You're ignoring her. It needs to stop."

"And when did you become her mother?" Natasha didn't answer. One end of Clint's mouth pressed down as he drew another arrow from the quiver on his back. "I don't want to talk about this right now. I'm busy."

"I don't care if you're busy," she said. "She's acting different."

Clint shot an arrow into the target and reached for another. "Different how?"

"Don't pretend you haven't noticed. She won't stop sulking. She doesn't talk to anyone and she goes straight home as soon as her shift is over. It's weird."

"In case the news hasn't got around to you, we aren't dating anymore. Whatever is wrong with [Name] isn't my problem."

"That is the problem," Natasha said fiercely-so fiercely, in fact, that Clint dropped his hands to his sides and looked at her. "You're not dating anymore and now she's depressed. It's got to stop."

"Why don't _you_ go cheer her up?"

"Because she doesn't want to talk to me. Barton, just take my advice. We are comrades, aren't we?"

For the first time since she had met him, Clint scowled. "I don't think comrades make out with each other's significant others."

He wasn't getting it. Natasha could feel the blood thumping in her temple. It wasn't like her to get so emotional, but she meant it when Clint ignoring you had to stop. The guilt was absolutely killing her. Without fully thinking through what she was doing, Natasha picked Clint up by the collar and slammed him into the shooting range's protective wall.

" _I_ kissed _her_. She didn't kiss me. She didn't even want to kiss me, and she screamed at me when you broke up with her. This isn't her fault and if you really loved her as much as you insisted you did while you were dating, you'd go apologize for being such a jerk and start being angry with me instead."

Clint's forehead crinkled. " _You_ kissed _her_?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because she's attractive," Natasha said. She was beginning to calm down now that Clint was listening. "She's attractive and funny and nervous and I was jealous that you got to her first. I'm not used to that feeling and I...lost control. But I never wanted to hurt her this much."

"Okay, okay." Clint lifted his hands, palms forward. "I get it. Can you put me down?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you going to apologize to [Name] so she'll go back to being all...perky again?"

"If I promise to, will you let me go?" Natasha's eyes narrowed further. "I promise, Tasha. I didn't know."

Her hands tore free of his jacket and Clint landed easily on his feet. After adjusting his uniform accordingly, he flashed her a smile. "She is all that, isn't she?"

"Just go. I'm sick of looking at her puppy-dog eyes."

"Going, going." Clint lifted his hands again and went for the door. Before he got too far, Natasha decided that she had better do something to prevent this situation from repeating itself.

"And if you ever break her heart again, I will break your face."

Without turning to look at her, he laughed. "You really did decide to become her mother, didn't you?"

Or maybe she'd just break it _after_ he got you fixed.


	48. Destroy Me [Clint Barton]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Crimson...

It was Natasha who found him curled up in the back of the apartment, Natasha who didn't say anything as she crept into the dark bedroom to sit next to him on the bed, Natasha who Clint looked at without speaking to him. As was her way, she remained silent and simply watched, for nearly an hour, before she finally spoke up:

"Fury is wondering why you won't answer over the com unit."

Clint just looked at her. Why was Natasha even there? Didn't she know? And even if she did, did she honestly think talking was going to fix anything? Seeming to notice his agitation, Natasha took her eyes off of the man and started to search the walls.

"They've almost got everything cleaned up out there." As if that were going to make him feel better. They wouldn't be able to get rid of the smell for days-cloying and choking and rotting with memories. "We should get you back to the base. This wasn't easy and-"

"Go without me."

Her eyes swiveled once again to his face, but this time Clint looked away. In his lap, his fingers danced restlessly over and underneath each other.

"Clint," Natasha said slowly. "Don't do this to your-"

"Don't tell me not to do this to myself!" Clint's voice cracked as he leaped to his feet and walked over to the corner of the room. Natasha didn't try to chase after him, she merely waited for him to continue. Without looking back at her, Clint wrapped his arms around himself and whispered, "She was dead."

"We thought that might be a possibility," said Natasha. "She'd been off the grid for so long, it seemed unlikely she was still trying to catch leads in Borneo. It shouldn't have taken as long to find she'd come home, but...Well, now we just need to find out who got in close enough with her to do that."

"It was me."

"I'm sorry?"

"It was me." At last Clint turned back toward Natasha and he knew from the look in her eyes that she could tell he was on the verge of tears. He couldn't cry; he didn't deserve to. To hide the urge, Clint lifted one hand over his eyes before he continued, "It was me. I killed her."

"Clint, why would you think that? You and [Name] were more than friends. And even if you had a reason, you would have come forward when we noticed she was missing."

"I didn't remember. Until-Until I saw her." His shoulders shook slightly, but he was able to control the worst of his emotions. "She'd been dead since-"

"Loki," Natasha breathed. "Oh, Clint."

"He didn't have to make me do it!" Clint started to shout. He looked at a photograph for one moment, watching the frozen image of himself and the girl laughing in each other's arms, and then he smashed it to the floor. "She wasn't going to do anything! It wasn't her choice! She didn't mean to see me when I came back!"

"Clint-"

"She wasn't supposed to be home yet," he whispered. "I didn't _know_."

"It's not your fault, Clint. Loki was a madman. You can't blame yourself for something you couldn't control."

"Selvic put in a way to stop the Tesseract. He fought it. Why couldn't I?"

He knew Natasha didn't have an answer. Clint watched her hands clench around the bedspread and loosen again while she tried to think of a way to subdue him. But he wouldn't let her. He walked over to the door and threw a fist into the wood.

"Did I want to kill her? Was that it? Was there some part of me, deep down, that wanted to see all that? All the blood? Oh, God. I did that. I did that. I ripped out her tongue and I cut off her fingers and I wouldn't let her escape. I did that. I did all of that."

Natasha was quiet for a good, long while. Then, she spoke:

"I don't think you wanted to kill her. I don't think you could think that about [Name]."

"How do you know?" Clint's voice was growing more and more ragged. But as much as he wanted Natasha to just leave so that he wouldn't have to worry about her seeing him like this, he also didn't want her to go. Because what would he do, if he were left all alone?

"Just look around. There's practically nothing in this apartment that doesn't have to something do with you. That picture you broke? It wasn't the only one. And she kept everything you ever gave her. She loved you."

"So?"

"I've been to your place. I know you felt the same way."

Clint craned his neck around to look at her. Natasha kept her face completely straight, but that was what she was good at. He couldn't bring himself to look at the rest of the room. If what Natasha said was true, he didn't want to see it. What kind of monster went to someone they loved and murdered them?

"I know it's hard to understand, but it wasn't you."

"I let her die alone."

"She was with you."

That couldn't have been much comfort. Clint had seen the decomposing corpse, the dried blood, the stump of a tongue sitting in a red stain on the counter. The panic that flared in his chest at the mental images couldn't compare to what she must have felt as he tortured her.

"Clint," said Natasha. "You did fight."

He snorted. "How do you figure?"

"What did Loki tell you to do?"

"Kill her," Clint answered. "Kill her in every way she never wanted to happen."

"And what did she want to happen least?"

"...She wanted...to have someone there with her."

"You were there."

Slowly, Clint nodded. It wasn't enough to console him, but it was enough to get him back onto the bed next to Natasha. He knew how awkward she felt with comforting and with personal space, but when Clint settled back down, he still pressed his face into her shoulder.

"I'll ask Fury to leave you alone here for a bit. No com use. No exceptions."

"Thank you."


	49. Creep [Bruce Banner]

Tracking gigs were hit and miss when it came to enjoyability. You either got stuck outside in the summer, following some guy through the Sahara dessert or you got to stick around inside and play with an agency’s toys until it was time to move on. One particular job involved long stretches of both. No Sahara, thankfully, but it did require a lot of following one man around the island of Manhattan and hoping to God he wouldn’t see you.

That day was even worse. Far from being warm and dry, the weather had taken a turn toward the foggy and wet. Rain lashed against windows; clouds dipped into the streets; thunder rumbled across the sky.

You lost your mark roughly two blocks after finding him. The thought did not cheer you up; it would be another uncomfortable phone meeting with your benefactor that evening. But there was no use standing outside and continuing to get soaked. Trying to shrug off your growing feelings of disappointment, you ducked inside the nearest store you could find.

Inside was a snug little Starbucks already filled near to bursting with people. The baristas seemed to have given up on wrangling everyone into buying drinks and instead were chatting with each other behind the counter. A few small children ran around the back near the coffee mugs while the teenagers huddled up near windows with their laptops.

You shook the water out of your hair and walked to the counter. Despite the crowd inside, the line was nonexistent. You ordered a hot chocolate and went to stand near the door, the better to keep a look out. Almost as soon as you had, a man with dark, curly hair bowled you over.

“Oh!” said the man as he bent to grab your arm and heave you to your feet. “I’m sorry.”

Too engaged with the chocolate stain blooming across your shirt, you didn’t look up as you answered, “It’s fine, it’s fine.”

“No, I–Oh. Do you want another drink? I can buy you one. What did you have?”

“No, really, I’m–” The sound of his voice alerted you to the fact that something was not quite right. Without continuing to speak, you lifted your head, eyes already narrowed. Sure enough, it was the man you were supposed to be following. “I’m fine,” you finished. “Just fine.”

“That’s good.” He looked relieved. “Are you all right?”

Now you were in trouble. Hopefully Bruce Banner wasn’t the kind of man that took that much notice of his surroundings. You ducked your head and made for the door. “Fine! I’m fine.”

“Wait.” Bruce grabbed your arm, causing you to freeze. Slowly, you turned to look at him. Now his eyes were narrowed and focused on your features. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Me?” Your voice raised several octaves; you couldn’t help it. Never before had someone managed to catch you spying on them. “I don’t think that’s possible. I only just moved here and–”

He ignored you. “The girl at the dentist,” he breathed, “and from the supermarket and the gas station and…Tony’s new intern?”

Your heart thudded violently in your wrist. Maybe you should have tugged free and sprinted away, but you couldn’t. Suddenly, you were moving anyway as Bruce pushed you out the door as casually as he could and force-marched you into a secluded corner out of doors.

“Why are you following me?” He asked the question so quietly that you could barely hear him over the rain popping against the pavement. His fingers were like iron around you. “Who sent you?”

“I’m not–”

“Answer me.” His voice remained quiet but his fingers contracted even more tightly. You winced; you weren’t stupid. You knew what would happen if you pushed that particular man too far. Your benefactor made sure you knew that much, at least, before you got started.

“I don’t know,” you said.

“What?”

“I don’t know!”

“You don’t know?” He had to bring his face close to yours to make himself audible. “You’ve been following me for three weeks and you don’t even know who sent you?”

“I–”

“Explain. Now.”

You stared at him, tears and rain gathering in your wide eyes. Bruce continued to keep you in place but he had yet to lose his temper. In fact, it was hard to read his emotions at all, but suddenly…

Your legs shook and quivered and Bruce let go just in time. Your knees hit the puddle below the pair of you with a splat just as your hands moved up to cover your mouth. “They–They have my family.”

If you thought Bruce was going to leave you there, he didn’t. Instead, the man knelt next to you in the rain. “Your family?”

“My little sister,” you whispered. “I’ve all she’s got.”

Then you burst into tears. It was all too much. Having to be in Africa for nearly a year just so you could afford to feed the two of you. Coming home one day to find the place ransacked and your sister gone. Being called from an untraceable number and told to follow a man in America or never see her again. Finding out that man was really quite nice and you were probably doing wrong keeping tabs on him.

Bruce was silent for a good, long while. Then, he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey,” he said. “Hey. It’s going to be okay.”

“No, it’s not. She’s–She’ll think I’ve abandoned her! And what if they _do_ kill her? I won’t–”

“Hey. Shhh. It’s okay.” He patted your back and waited until the sobbing subsided. At last, it did, and Bruce helped you to your feet. “Let’s go back inside. I’ll get you another hot chocolate. We’ll figure out what to do.”

You paused in the middle of rubbing the wet from your face. “Eh? You’re going to help me? But–But I was following you for someone else.”

Bruce gave you a smile and tugged your wrist–much more lightly this time–in the direction of the Starbucks. “It’s okay. I’m used to being followed."


	50. (Closet) Pervert [Thor Odinson]

“Thor?” you called as you entered your house, late after work and not expecting another one of your boyfriend’s unannounced visits. “Thor?”

If he was hiding, he clearly hadn’t thought that plan through. Nothing said “THOR WAS HERE” better than the nice set of "crop circles" he made on your lawn whenever he jumped to Earth. Not even one of Tony’s ostentatious cars could do the job better.

Thor was being awfully quiet, though. You frowned, hung your coat up, and wandered into the kitchen. “Thor? Are you here? Hiding isn’t funny.” Had he gone into town? No, surely not. Thor was, if nothing else, very chivalrous. He’d have picked you up from work at the very least. “Seriously, Thor. I just spent all day dealing with the criminally insane. I don’t want to play hide-and-seek.”

But Thor, if he was in the house at all, didn’t answer. You grumbled out a sigh and opened a cabinet. Well, if he did turn up, he’d be hungry and you’d be damned if you stayed up much longer to cook him dinner.

_"THUMP CRASH BANG THUMP."_

You nearly jumped out of your skin and the can of corn in your hands hit the floor with an enormous clang. For several seconds, you listened to your heart beat and your breath catch as you leaned against one of the cabinets and waited for the sound to come again.

Such a loud sound did not, but from upstairs you continued to hear muffled thumps and bangs. Your heart caught in your throat, but at the same time you reached under the kitchen sink and grabbed the baseball bat you kept underneath it. Thor might have been M.I.A. and there might have been someone in your house, but no way were you going down without a fight.

“Hello?” you asked from the bottom of the stairs. No response. Instead, the sounds paused for a split-second, then started anew. “Fine. Be that way. I’m coming up there. But I warn you: I’m armed!”

Doing the work you did, making enemies instead of friends was a given. You’d heard plenty of stories of predecessors having dealings outside with upset clients. The one before you had _died_. Slowly, you walked up the stairs, and your fingers wrapped all the more tightly around your bat.

The sounds issued from your room. From your spot in the hallway, you could see that the door was ajar and the lights on. Whoever they were, they weren’t really going in for subtle. Before you could make yourself back out and call the police, you threw the door open so hard that it banged against the wall and then you leaped inside.

“Drop whatever is in your hands!”

The bumps and bangs stopped instantly. You opened your mouth to issue another threat, but instead the intruder backed out of your closet and looked at you.

“[Name]!”

“ _Thor_?”

Too late. He had already wrapped his arms around in a great bear hug. “[Name]! I am so pleased to see you. It has been too long. I was worried perhaps you would never come home.”

“I had work, Thor. What–Why are you in my closet?”

He released you and walked back toward the closet, motioning for you to follow. Your crossed your arms and followed him.

“I found something…strange.”

“What were you even doing in here to begin with? Thor, if you were sniffing anything, I swear to your father I am going to kill Loki for introducing you to _Fifty Shades of Grey._ ”

“I would never do anything so uncouth as what those Midgardians did. I simply opened the doors to let the cat out.”

Mittens did have a perchance to get stuck inside the closet. But…

“Okay, but what was all that bumping when I got home? What’d you find in here? A frog?”

“No…this!”

You knew Thor was bright. You knew it with every fiber of your being. Just because he didn’t understand a lot of Earth things didn’t mean he was dumb. Jeez was it difficult to remind yourself of that sometimes.

“Thor, that’s my bra.”

He lifted the skin-colored material closer to his face and scratched his chin. “So it is yours and not something I should be concerned about?”

“Yes,” you said and snatched it away. “And paws off the merchandise!”

“I am sorry.” Thor bowed his head. “I only meant to protect you.”

“Yeah." You snorted. "You do a great job protecting me from lingerie. You’ve seriously never seen one of these before?”

He shook his head.

“Wait…Sif doesn’t wear a bra?”

“Sif wears armor that befits her dignity and strength. She has no need of these…flesh colored…items.”

You sighed and waggled the bra on one finger. “It supports my breasts, Thor. I’m thinking that whatever it is Sif gets up to on a daily basis, she probably needs one more than I do.”

Thor brightened immediately. “Should I get one for her then? As a present?”

“No!” you said hastily. “God, no. Please don’t. And if you do, please don’t say it was my idea.”

“All right, all right.” Thor chuckled. “No bras. But are breasts really that difficult to hold up?”

“They’re heavier than they–” You broke off in a choking blush. “No, I’m _not_ having this conversation with you. It’s nearly ten o’ clock and I’m hungry. Let’s just go down to the kitchen and make dinner.”

“Good idea.”

You led Thor out of the bedroom and back down the stairs. For a moment, you thought everything was going to be okay. Until Thor murmured in the doorway:

"You know, I think those books Loki lent me did mention something about bras.”

“I’m going to _kill_ him.”


	51. Sparks [Pepper Potts]

If there was one thing Pepper didn’t have enough of it, it was time. Every day (and most nights), she had to run constant errands for Tony Stark. When it came to her very rare date nights, she expected you to pick her up on time.

“[Name], where are you?” Pepper could only tell that you had picked up her call from the blaring music that interrupted the dull ring. “You were supposed to pick me up twenty minutes ago.”

The phone jostled (or she assumed it did) and then you shouted back, “check below you!” Right after these words came a faint beep and the music cut off. You had hung up on her.

Annoyed, Pepper glanced down at the marble floor beneath her feet. Here she was, dressed for a dinner date, and you were in the basement having fun with _Tony_? That had _not_ been her plan when she’d introduced the two of you and asked him to entertain you while she was busy with work. With narrowed eyes, she made her way quickly down to the soundproofed lab in the basement and wrenched the door open.

Immediately the music beset her. Pepper closed her eyes to ward off any unwanted headaches as she stepped inside. “[Name]? Are you in here?”

“Hey, Tony! Turn down the music for a sec!”

“What?”

“Turn down the music!”

Thankfully, Tony obeyed your request and the volume of whatever rock music he had on plummeted. Pepper cracked open a single eye and saw you walking toward her with your blackened hands working themselves clean on a rag. She shook her head rapidly to get rid of the ringing in her ears.

“Hey, Pepper,” you said by way of greeting. “What’s up?”

“What’s up? You–”

Again, Pepper was interrupted. Tony pushed a mask down on his face and started to weld.

“Tony!” you had to speak quite loudly to be heard over the sound of the blast. “Tony! You were supposed to do that in your suit. I wanted to see!”

“[Name],” Pepper pushed her lips against each other, a sign that even you should have understood meant her patience was growing thin. “Our _date_?”

“Can you wait two minutes, babe? Tony promised he’d show me some of the work he can do with the suit. Please?” You pressed your hands together and bent your knees.

Tony stopped welding long enough to flip his mask back up. “Yeah, please, babe? [Name] and I _are_ busy here.”

The two of you continued to stare at her, waiting for Pepper to make her decision. Her mouth worked open and shut several times as she looked from face to face. Then, without saying yes or no, she left the room and only paused to say:

“ _I’m_ going out. Whether or not _[Name]_ wants to join me is up to her.”


	52. Give In [Loki Laufeyson]

“Let me go.” Your words curled dangerously out of your throat and into the deep dark of midnight on Asgard. The two guards flanking you with their fingers wrapped tightly about your upper arms exchanged concerned looks but did not loosen their grip. With a toss of your head, you added, “if you _must_ drag me from my room in the middle of the night, at least be courteous about it.”

“Sorry, my lady,” said one of the guards with a bow of his head.

“You are wanted by the king,” said the other.

“The king?” Your voice rose as you approached the throne room. “What does Odin want with me at this hour?”

Again the guards exchanged a look of worry, but all the first said in answer was, “He did not tell us, my lady.”

“Then release me.”

“He was adamant that we keep you restrained.”

You fell silent, though anger continued to pound through your limbs. Whatever had happened, you had nothing to do with it. You minded your own business. You left well enough alone. Odin had no reason to call you away from your chambers.

The guards pushed the double doors open and forced you inside. You tossed them a glare and then focused on walking down the glistening aisle. Way at the end of the room was a large golden throne. As you neared, you locked your eyes onto the figure sitting in it, but the closer you got, the more you realized–

“You’re not Odin.”

Loki smiled. “No,” he answered. “I’m not.”

With one quick nod, he sent the men behind you away. The pair of them bowed and disappeared back through the door. You and Loki were all alone. All he did, in the silence that followed, was continue to grin. At last, you could take the mystery no longer.

“Where is Odin?”

“My father has fallen ill. I’m afraid I had to take his place.”

“Where is Thor?”

“You know my brother has been banished. Do not waste my time with foolish questions.”

“You shouldn’t waste _mynot_ –”

Before you could complete that sentence, Loki stood, dropped to the floor where you were stationed, and grabbed your chin. You fell silent but still he wrenched your face upward, the better to meet your [color] eyes with his own green pair.

“I asked you here because of your standing with the rest of them.” Loki’s voice was calm but fire raged in his eyes. “If you kneel, the rest of them will kneel. If you do not cooperate, you will be thrown in jail for treason–or perhaps you’d like to be banished to Midgar with Thor?”

“You’re mad,” you spat. He twisted your head up even higher and a hiss escaped from your lips.

“Kneel,” he said.

Your knees hit the floor. Loki smirked but did not take his fingers from your chin.

“That’s better.”


	53. You Can't Break What's Already Broken [Tony Stark]

“Tony?” The glass door to the lab slid silently open at your approach and gaped into the darkness of the room within. This only served to make the worry gnawing at your stomach chew harder. Two weeks ago, Tony had called you acting…strange. Six days ago, he’d nearly got killed in racing a car in Monaco. _Four_ days ago, he had stopped answering your phone calls.

Mustering up as much courage as you could, you stepped across the threshold and walked into the laboratory. The entire room was dark, except, you noticed, some golden light spilling from near one of Tony’s cars.

“Tony?” you called again. No one answered and for a moment you wavered. Maybe he was still upstairs? But no one had answered there either, not even JARVIS. With one last gulp and a look over your shoulder, you crept toward the single lamp.

As you did, something flashed in the dark. You sucked in a breath but continued. You were in Tony’s house–what was going to hurt you there? But maybe a threat wasn’t exactly what you dreaded seeing. Because when you arrived at the car door, you did, indeed, find Tony.

“Oh…” you breathed as you caught sight of him. Lacerations colored his cheeks and bruises shadowed the skin around his eyes and jaw. Clearly awake, all Tony did was blink at you as you took in his disheveled appearance.

“Hey,” he said at last. “You came.”

You didn’t wait for an invitation. Tony’s eyes followed you as you walked around the hood of the car, opened the door, and crawled into the seat next to him. “Of course I came. I–You stopped calling.”

He nodded and his eyes wandered over to a large box of notebooks and then to a screen set up across from him. Your fingertips tingled with the desire to touch him, but you squashed the impulse down and instead kept your gaze steadily on his face as you asked:

“What are you doing?”

“What if I told you I didn’t know anymore?” Tony turned his head to look at you. Maybe it was just the strange lighting, but you thought you saw some odd, boxy pattern twining up his neck. “Maybe I never knew. I didn’t even know my father. How the hell could I know myself?”

“What does it matter about your father?” you inquired. “What does he have to do with anything?”

Tony simply shrugged and looked away. Now more worried than ever, you scooted closer to him. Tony kept his eyes straight ahead.

“Who am I kidding? I’m not a hero. I never did anything that great. And now…”

He trailed away. You couldn’t take it any longer. Your hands darted out to take the one he had resting against the seat near you. “Who says you aren’t a hero?” you asked as you gently rubbed your thumbs against his knuckles. “You’ve saved _lives_ Tony.”

“That’s not enough.”

“Then what _is_? If it’s not enough to save the lives of people you’ve never met, to completely turn your company around, to make sure Obadiah didn’t hurt anyone else, then what is? Tony, you’ve got to stop obsessing over being some great superhero. Superheroes don’t exist. You can’t compare yourself to people like that. _You_ need to be enough for you.”

If you expected an answer to your little speech, you were certainly disappointed. Tony remained silent. Slowly, you looked back up into his face. His eyes were shut, his head lolling against the headrest. Tony Stark was completely, one-hundred-percent asleep. For a moment, you kept his hand in your gentle grip and watched his chest rise and fall. Then, you let his hand fall and reached up one of your own fingers to brush it down his cheek. He remained utterly dead to the world.

“Oh, Tony,” you sighed. “What are you not telling me?”


	54. Help Me [Pepper Potts]

“As you can see, the island of Manhattan is under attack. We have no way of knowing whether or not these forces, which have yet to be officially classified as alien in origin, will spread to other areas of the city or the country. Citizens are advised to stay inside and away from windows. We’ll keep you up to date with the next bit of reliable information to come through.”

If someone had dropped a pin in the airplane, you were sure you could have heard it hit the carpeted floor. Every single person inside the private craft had their eyes glued to the screen. Burning buildings, cars exploding into fireballs, and screaming people burst across every channel on the television. All thoughts of the contracting meeting you were there for were very far away–most replaced by thoughts of how it probably wasn’t a good idea to be in the air at the moment.

“We have just received notice that the government has okayed a nuclear maneuver on the island of Manhattan. A missile has been launched. Citizens are advised to–to–”

Even the news anchor was breaking down. Miss Potts was worried, too, you could tell. Maybe most unpaid interns couldn’t tell when their managers were upset, but Miss Potts _never_ got upset. Spending so much time with Mr. Stark had hardened her to most situations. But maybe that was the problem. Mr. Stark wasn’t there with her. He was down below. Every so often a flash of gold and crimson would dip into the chaos and the skin on Miss Potts’ knuckles would whiten until it surfaced again.

But what could you do? You couldn’t say anything that could solve this problem. People down there were dying, and if Mr. Stark and his associates didn’t pull through it would mean certain death for him, too. You weren’t sure how well Miss Potts would handle it. He was her life.

“Wait, we have something coming in!” The woman on screen pressed her earpiece hard into the side of her head. “Billionaire Tony Stark’s Iron Man has got ahold of the missile. And–Yes! It appears that he is attempting to use it against the alien threat! If that’s true, he has three minutes to–”

You glanced sharply over at the woman next to you. Miss Potts’ hands trembled as they covered her mouth. Your heart thudded in your chest. _Please, Mr. Stark_ , you thought. _Please_.

But before you could find out whether or not Mr. Stark was successful, Miss Potts turned toward you. You blushed, worried that she had seen you staring. Instead, she gripped your wrist and her fingernails dug into your skin. You wanted to look away, but something about her expression kept you frozen in your seat.

“Tony...” was all she said. As best you could, you forced your lips into a smile and covered her hand with your free one.

“Mr. Stark,” you said confidently, “will be just fine.”


	55. Hot (Like Wow) [Thor Odinson]

Sometimes you looked forward to certain activities for weeks. Days off from work. Baseball games. Cleaning out your refrigerator and finding out what new life forms you had grown over the year. Things like that. And if there had been _one_ thing you’d been looking forward to for nearly two months, it was your trip to the beach with Thor and his friends.

Once you were there, though, you found it difficult to enjoy yourself. First, you’d had to shake off Clint insisting you learn how to surf. Then you’d cut your hand open looking for shells and Bruce had to patch you up. When, at last, you got to the tanning you had so wanted to do, well…

_That_ was when the fangirls showed up. Hard as you tried to ignore the screaming and the squealing and the calling of, _“oh my god look at his abs! I bet you could grate cheese on them,”_ the words simply drilled into your brain until they were all you could hear.

“Why won’t they shut up?” you finally snapped–and very loudly. “He’s just a demigod. It’s really not all that exciting!”

From the towel next to you, you heard Tony speak. “Uh, is there any particular reason you _aren’t_ swooning over your boyfriend like the rest of the female populace?”

You flicked your sunglasses up and shook your head. “Once you see him naked,” you answered, “him wandering around in swim trunks just isn’t enough.”

Tony only stared as you settled back down on to your towel, swung your sunglasses into place, and shut your eyes.

“Sorry I asked.”


	56. Entertain Me [Bruce Banner]

“Um, hey, [Name]. Could I ask you for a small favor? Itty-bitty, really. Teensy.”

Before you even looked up from your book, you knew Tony Stark was lying to your face. He didn’t ask you for favors, and if he did, as a rule, they were pretty big. But since you knew that, you couldn’t exactly say no. With a quick flick of a page, you saved your place and looked toward him.

“What kind of a favor?”

“A…Bruce favor.”

The tone of Tony’s voice did little to assuage your fears. Your eyes narrowed, although his face remained carefully neutral. “What kind of Bruce favor?”

“Just…” Tony glanced behind himself, then back at you. “Just follow me.”

Something was seriously wrong. Your heart gave a tiny squeeze as you set your pencil down next to your book and hurried after Tony’s retreating back. “Tony?” you asked as the pair of you moved along the wall toward his private laboratory. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all. There’s just a slight situation.”

“And what kind of situation could you have that you need _my_ help with?”

But Tony did not have to answer. As soon as you reached the lab, you knew. Standing in the middle of quite a lot wreckage and breathing heavily was a very large, very green person. As you watched, he let out a massive roar and gripped another desk until it was crushed into powder.

“Oh,” you said. And then: “Tony, what did you _do_?”

“ _Me_? I didn’t do anything. _I_ don’t know what's going on. Well, actually, maybe it might have been that chemical but we certainly didn’t want the effect to be permanent and–”

“Get to the point!”

“Okay, okay. Jeez.” Tony lifted one arm and rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I think I know what could fix this but I need some time and ingredients.”

“ _And_?”

“And I was just hoping you could entertain Bruce until I got back.”

Your mouth fell open and your eyes bulged. “Entertain Bruce? When he could kill me just as easily as look at me?”

“He’s not going to hurt you.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because Bruce doesn’t hurt people he loves, even when he’s like this.” Something smashed inside the lab. You looked over and saw a chair had been tossed through a sheet of glass. Tony, however, ignored that development. “And Bruce loves you. Worst case scenario, he plays King Kong and carries you to the top of the building.”

“ _What_?” you squawked.

“Thanks for all the help, [Name]. You’re a real life saver,” Tony said as he pushed you into the room. You whirled about, ready to rush straight back toward him, but the man had already disappeared into the elevator. You were well and truly stuck. You were so focused on your frustration with Tony that it took nearly a minute for the fact the room had gone silent to sink in.

You gulped and turned slowly on the spot. Standing near another splintered desk stood Bruce–The Other Guy–The Hulk–whatever. His green eyes were focused on you. You weren’t sure if that was a good thing, but at least he didn’t seem to be breathing as heavily.

“Bruce?” you asked and took a tentative step forward. His eyes narrowed. “Um, Tony will be right back. He asked me–He asked me to entertain you.”

The eyes flew open and Bruce’s lips peeled back into a wide grin. No sooner had the thought that you should hide somewhere occur to you–if there was anywhere safe to hide–then did Bruce come racing in your direction. You might have screamed, but there was no time. Two massive hands lurched forward and drew you into the air.

“Bruce–” you began, but then realized that the grip around you was fairly loose. If you wanted to squirm away, you could. Startled, you looked into his face. Bruce’s grin was still there. That unnerved you for some reason. You’d been trained to expect the Hulk to be some sort of monster. Instead, there was something almost familiar about him. “Bruce?”

He answered by planting a sloppy kiss against your cheek. Okay, so maybe not completely Bruce. The drool dripped down your chin, and as it did, you laughed. The situation was so funny. A frighteningly deep sound joined you and you froze–only to realize that Bruce was laughing, too. After a moment of that, he set you gently back onto your feet.

“Well, that was easy,” you said cheerily, and he grunted. With a smile, you stepped forward and touched him lightly on the arm. “Now, what else can we do to entertain you?”

Bruce was only too happy to oblige.


	57. Sick Little Games [Natasha Romanoff]

Waiting was probably the worst part of attempting communication with members of other agencies. They often picked difficult locale and half the time they showed up late–or not at all.

At least that time, it was somewhat pleasant. You didn’t mind sitting and waiting for your contact from S.H.I.E.L.D, nor did you mind watching the other store patrons through the puffs of steam coming from your coffee. What you _did_ mind was your boss constantly pestering you via your earpiece.

“[L Name], has S.H.I.E.L.D. shown yet?”

“Calm down, sir,” you said in a bored tone, picking at the pastry on your plate. That was the second time he had "called" in less than ten minutes. If the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was observing you to see if you were a threat, your constantly talking to someone no one else could see wouldn’t help the cause. “They’ll be here.”

“I’m starting to think Fury lied to us. Ten more minutes and you’re out of there.”

You rolled your eyes and took another sip of your coffee. Your boss was so high strung. He was lucky to have you on the job. The number of them he’d managed to bungle before hiring you was rumored to be in the lower hundreds. “Whatever.”

“No back sass, [L Name]. You want another desk job stint?”

“Again, whatev–”

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

You broke off to look up at the woman speaking to you–and didn’t pick the thread of conversation back up. Instead, your mouth popped straight open. The redhead raised her eyebrows at you. Then you realized she had probably caught you talking to your boss. A blush rose into your cheeks as you gestured at the chair.

“No, it’s not! Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you.” She sat. For a moment, you found yourself capable only of staring. Whoever the woman was, she was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. A smirk quirked up one side of her mouth and then she asked:

“Would you like to finish your phone call?”

“I wasn’t–”

“Agent Romanoff, S.H.I.E.L.D,” she said. Then, without waiting for you to respond, she tossed her hair behind her shoulder and got to her feet. “We can’t stay here. If you’ll follow me, I’ll get us to a more secure location.”

Then she left. You stared after, your mouth even more agape than before. After nearly ten seconds had passed, your boss’s voice clamored in your ear again.

“[L Name]? [L Name]? Was that your contact? Did she ask you to leave the premises? Don’t–”

“Be back later, Boss,” you said before he could complete the sentence. Without waiting for his spluttered response, you got to your feet and hustled after Agent Romanoff. “I think I’m in love.”


	58. Timebomb [Phil Coulson]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from "Desperate"...

“Er…Phil? Can I talk to you for a minute?”

As usual, Phil was working even through his lunch break. A pile of paperwork sat halfway done in front of him. Well, when else would he do it? he was a pretty active guy while on the clock. But when you spoke, he placed his pen next to the stack and looked straight at you.

“Sure, I’ve got a minute to spare. What do you need?”

These words were enough to get you to slink into the room with your hands firmly clasped behind your back. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice anything strange about your behavior and simply watched as you made your way toward him.

“I just wanted to…” you swallowed before continuing, “give you something.”

“Give me something?” Phil repeated and turned a little bit more toward you. “It’s not my birthday. Is it?”

It was just like Phil to forget something like his own birthday. You shook your head and then, before you could chicken out, handed him an unmarked envelope. “H-Here.”

Phil frowned, but took the envelope. For a moment, you thought he would refuse to open it. That was, of course, a foolish fear. He simply picked up his pen again and ripped the top of it open. When he didn’t see anything immediately, he glanced up at you. You motioned for Phil to turn it over and he did. A card hit the table face down with a tiny clipping sound.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Turn it over.”

His frown only deepening, Phil did as he was told. As soon as he caught sight of the image on the other side of the card, though, he froze. You had to suppress a smile. That wasn’t too difficult, since a part of you suspected Phil might just leave in disgust. Instead, he ran a finger carefully down the edge and then looked at you to ask:

“Do you know what this is?”

“A Captain America trading card,” you answered. “You collect them, don’t you?"

“Yes, but _this_ card. I’ve never been able to find it. I wouldn’t be able to afford it if I did. How did you…?”

“Tony and Pepper got it for me,” you admitted with a blush. Phil only looked confused.

“Why would Tony and Pepper get this for you? Do you collect them, too?”

“No, I–” you stammered away into awkward silence. When Phil continued to eye you as if trying to figure out what to make of you, you took a deep breath and added, “They got it for me to give to you. Because I like you.”

If the card hadn’t stunned Phil, your words certainly did. “You do? Since when?”

“Since forever. You just haven’t noticed. But, I mean…I know the card won’t do anything, but I like seeing you smile, so you can keep it.”

Phil glanced again at the card and the young man on it. Then, he carefully pressed it between several sheets of paper and looked back up at you.

“Would you like to go to dinner?”

Your toes curled with pleasure. “I would love to.”


	59. Mine [Tony Stark]

As the night stretched on, so did the silence in the Avengers Tower. Tony remained holed up working on something, which left you bored in the kitchen, watching Steve draw.

You weren’t exactly sure why Steve was there (except maybe that one of the floors of the tower belonged to him), but it was apparent that he was much less bothered by Tony’s absence than you were. His pencil scraped quietly against a sheet paper; his blue eyes moved up to look at you drinking a cup of cocoa, and then back to his sketch.

“What are you drawing?” you asked at last.

Steve smiled. “Take a look.”

Your cup puffed a final cloud of steam into the air as you placed it on the counter and made your way to Steve's chair. You bent over his shoulder slightly and saw, in light grey-scale, a near-exact replica of you on paper. The woman’s eyes were fixed not at the artist, but rather, you knew, on a clock somewhere to the left. She looked tired, exhausted even, but still pretty.

“Wow,” you breathed. If you'd thought you wouldn’t smudge the lead, you might have reached out and touched the picture. One side of Steve’s mouth quirked.

“You like it?”

“You’re amazing, Steve. Where did you learn to draw like that?”

He shrugged. “Guess I just picked it up.”

“Do you think maybe you could teach me? Give me lessons when you aren’t too busy with the whole saving the world thing?”

“Sure. That might be fun. We could–”

Steve broke off at the sound of someone loudly clearing their throat. Both of you looked up to see Tony leaning against the doorway. “Well, isn’t this cozy?” he said.

You caught Steve’s eye. He looked just as confused as you did. You shook your head in return and then looked back to Tony. “Where have you been all night?”

“Busy,” he answered. “Ready to go to bed?”

You glanced over at your cocoa. It was probably cold by then anyway. And, after all, the clock read past midnight. You nodded as a yawn stretched over your face, and then wandered over to Tony. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight, [Name].”

You padded out the door and into the dark hallway. Just as Tony made to follow you, however, he stopped.

“Hey, lover boy.” You couldn’t see Steve’s face, but you imagined he was blinking blankly at your boyfriend. “Let’s get one thing straight. This pretty piece of art?” You looked over your shoulder to see what the holdup was and spotted Tony pointing back at you. “This is mine. Not yours. Mine. Got it?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Tony,” you snapped. It was late and you only wanted to go to bed. “It’s just art lessons. Lay off. Steve doesn’t think of me like that.”

“I know he doesn’t.” Tony turned and walked up to you. “But just so he doesn’t get any ideas.”

“Mr. Stark,” came Steve’s voice as the two of you entered the elevator, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”


	60. Energetic [Steve Rogers]

The house was quiet when the screen door banged shut behind you; the only sound came from the rustling of your grocery bags as you bustled into the kitchen. Odd, since at 4:30 in the afternoon, both your husband and your son should have been home.

Without saying anything, you checked each of their favorite spots: the office, the living room, even both bedrooms. Nothing. But as the nice spring day had promised warmer weather, a window had been left open in the last, and laughter drifted through it. You smiled, walked back downstairs, and then exited through the backdoor.

A gentle breeze blew through the grass, leading your eyes in a snaking pattern all the way to a pair of braces. They had been thrown to the ground and lay in a heap. The boy who owned them was perched on his father’s shoulders. Both boys grinned as Steve spun them around and around in circles.

You walked outside and crossed your arms over your chest. “James Buchanan Rogers,” you said, though a smile pulled at your lips too hard for the words to come out threatening. “You better have finished your homework.”

Steve finished his spin and landed with his feet toward you. The boy clinging to his back paused to blink the stars away. “Give Bucky a break, [Name],” Steve said with a chuckle. “It’s a nice day out. Let him relax.”

“Okay, okay,” you said, still smiling. With a final shake of his head, Bucky cleared away his dizziness and sent you a dazzling grin.

“Dad says we can go out for a walk later!”

“ _Did_ he?”

“Can we, Mom? Please?”

You cocked your head to one side and pretended to consider his suggestion. “When did you want to leave?”

“Can we go now?”

“Well, I don’t know. I was thinking–Race you to the front yard!” You took off mid-sentence and left a dust cloud in your wake. Bucky only gaped after, then screwed up his eyes and shouted:

“No fair!”

“Don’t worry, Buck,” Steve said as he made chase. “We’ll get her.”


	61. Conceive [Clint Barton]

The climax of a mission was always the hardest part. It wasn’t exactly easy to be subtle when you knew that in an under hour, some guy you’d barely spoken to would be dead. But Clint felt at ease in any situation, and following another agent through the busy streets of Bangkok was as familiar as any other job he’d had. His fellow SHIELD member paused across the street and made a discreet motion for Clint to follow him. Their eyes met; Clint nodded once and made to step over the curb.

Then the cellphone at his hip buzzed. Clint froze. Everyone he trusted enough to give his number to knew where he was, or at least had the general idea not to call him. The only reason they would bother was if they forgot–or if there was an emergency.

He paused with his hand around the pocket. SHIELD protocol dictated no personal calls during missions. So did common sense, when it came to Clint’s job. Still, when the phone vibrated angrily a second time, he made a split-second decision and tore his pocket open.

Across the street, the other agent made a more overt gesture to get his attention. Clint shook his head and hit the answer button.

“Clint?”

“[Name]?” Clint wasn’t sure if he was relieved or worried to hear you on the other end. To cut out the noise of the pedestrians around him, he placed a finger in his free ear. “What is it? Why are you calling?”

“Can’t a girl call her boyfriend when he’s off on business?”

He paced into a more secluded alcove and motioned his head for his friend to continue on without him. The man simply shook his head and tapped at an imaginary watch. Clint sighed. Now was definitely not a good time.

“[Name], you know the rules. I can’t take personal calls once we’ve started a job.”

“It’s important.”

“What is it?” Clint’s heart leaped in his chest. When he spoke again, his words were rushed. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” you said slowly. “I…”

The other end went silent. Clint tapped his toes, glanced again at the other man, looked at the phone. You were still there. What was going on? “[Name]?”

“I’m pregnant.”

The busy world around Clint seemed to go suddenly mute. Even though everyone in the street continued to move and talk and laugh, he didn’t hear any of it. His limbs couldn’t move; he could not seem to get his tongue to make sounds.

“Clint?” your voice, tainted with fear, crackled over the line. “Clint?”

Finally, he managed to unstick his tongue. When Clint looked across the street again, however, all he could see was his contact watching with round, frightened eyes. Anything Clint wanted to say to you instantly flew out of his mind.

“H–Hey, [Name],” he managed to stammer. “I’ve got to go.”

“Oh…”

Clint took a final deep breath. “I’ll call you later.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he answered, then, after a brief pause, added, “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” you said quietly. “Bye.”

He hit the end button, put his phone on silent, and jogged across the street. The other agent was lounging against a building while he waited.

“Everything okay, Barton?” the man asked.

A wide smile split across Clint’s face. “Everything is great.”


	62. One of Those Nights [Loki Laufeyson]

You had been in the middle of a very pleasant dream. Clouds, sky, a bit of mayhem-the usual and just what you expected at three o’ clock in the morning. As such, you weren’t exactly pleased to be startled from your sleep by a voice above your head:

“Are you asleep?”

You sat up quickly, heart pounding, only to see Loki standing right next to you. Your eyes narrowed. “I _was_. Something you no doubt _knew_ before you woke me.”

“Yes, yes.” He waved away your anger. “I’m not sorry so I don’t plan to apologize.”

It was difficult to glare at him through your haze of exhaustion, but you managed well enough. “What do you want, Loki?”

“May I stay with you?”

“Again?”

“Thor is snoring. I can’t sleep. Believe me, I’ve been trying.”

After a deep breath, you slumped onto your pillows. Loki was, technically, not supposed to leave his room at night–not that he listened. But sometime soon, someone was going to actually _care_ where Loki kept going on his nightly visits.

“Really? You are a prince and the All Father cannot bother to get you your own room?”

Loki lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “He seems to believe that my staying with Thor will cause some of his good will to rub off on me.”

“That is hardly likely to happen if you do not _stay_ there.”

“[Name]. Please?”

Slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet Loki’s. He simply stood there, blinking. You heaved a sigh and flipped over so that your back was turned toward him.

“Very well. But if the palace guards come by tonight, _you_ explain.”

You heard him chuckle, then felt the bed shift as he climbed in next to you.

“No promises.”


	63. To Infinity [Tony Stark]

“No, [Name], it’s like _this_. Not like that. Why do you keep doing it like _that_?”

You’d never thought you’d meet someone that could take the fun out of _learning how to fly_. Yet there you were, dressed in an Iron Man suit, and having all of your buzzes killed by your insufferable boyfriend. You tried and tried and tried, but all Tony did was sit there in his own suit and make snarky comments.

“I’m trying,” you snapped, though the effect was ruined somewhat by your mask’s filter. “I just can’t seem to get enough upward thrust.”

“No, that’s not it.” He regarded you for a moment from his position by one of his cars, then shook his head and walked over to your side. “You don’t have the angle right. See?” Tony took your arm and slowly turned it so it faced more directly toward the floor. “Try it now.”

“Fine, but it’s not going to–”

Your words got sucked straight back into your lungs as your rocketed upward. Thankfully, Tony had had the sense to place you where there wasn’t any ceiling. Unfortunately, that meant that you just kept going.

The lights of buildings blurred past you as you shot straight up and toward the moon. “Oh my God!” you screamed, though it was highly unlikely that any of the people however many miles below could hear you. “Oh my God! No! How do I stop this thing?”

“Like this.”

Your momentum stopped instantaneously. You looked down and saw, from a perfect standstill, the entire city laid out below you. Tony, flying himself, had you in his arms.

“Congratulations, [Name],” he said. “You can fly.”


	64. It's Personal [Bruce Banner]

“All we know is that she disappeared before SHIELD agents were able to locate her.”

“And she…” Bruce ran a hand over his face to avoid looking at the photograph displayed on the screen. “She didn’t leave anything behind? A note or...anything at all?”

“She left plenty,” Fury answered. “A passport, for one. At least $300 in American dollars. Her cellphone.”

“So she got taken.”

“We don’t know _what_ caused her to disappear. By all accounts, Loki shouldn’t even know she exists.”

“But if he knew…” Bruce shook his head. Impossible. [Name] wasn’t stupid. She knew how to hide, almost as well as he did. That was what she was supposed to be doing. But then, she’d never mentioned working with SHIELD before either.

“He’d take her,” said Fury as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Especially if he knew we’d try to get you involved.”

Bruce’s brow wrinkled as he looked anywhere but at the familiar face they were speaking of. “I just don’t understand why. What we’re doing–she wouldn’t even understand it.”

“I think there’s a lot of things [Name] would understand. It doesn't matter. If he could get to you through her, Loki would do it.”

Finally, Bruce took a deep breath and met Fury’s eye. “And you’re telling me this because?”

“Because we trust you.” The other man turned away and the computer screen died. “And because now you know it’s personal.”


	65. It's Over [Natasha Romanoff]

Missions were never easy. You’d known that since you were but a rookie field agent. You’d told it to plenty of newbies yourself, too. But now it seemed you were eating those words as outside in Manhattan, an army of aliens raged and you could only race up all the stairs in the damn Stark Tower. You had to give grudging props to Loki for thinking to disable the elevator.

At last, you reached the balcony floor and threw yourself out the doors. You could hear several explosions, even _feel_ some of them from that distance. Your legs burned; your chest was having trouble rising and falling, but still you pushed yourself forward, toward where the portal remained pulsing.

“Natasha!” you shouted as you rushed outside. “Nat–” Just as you arrived, the portal closed, sending a massive jolt through the entire city. You fell and the momentum you had gathered before sent you skidding all the way to Natasha’s feet.

“… _Ow_.”

“[Name],” Natasha said after a brief pause. “It’s over.”

A long breath whooshed out of your lungs. You eyed her from the floor with your chest still heaving. "Great,” you managed to say. “Can we take a nap now?”

She cracked a smile through broken lips. “A nap sounds great.”

And, as the aliens continued to fall in glorious blasts of fire all around, Natasha sat down on the ground beside you and closed her eyes.


	66. Tell Me How Bad [Pepper Potts]

“Hey…Pepper?”

Pepper knew before she even looked at you that she was _not_ going to like what you had to say, not when that was the sort of tone you started things out with. She’d been running around all day, trying to keep up with Tony, and the _last_ thing she needed was _another_ problem. But if she ignored you now, it would only cause a larger problem later on.

“What is it, [Name]?” she asked without looking up from her tablet. The tenor of your next words almost sent her running out the door.

“Well…um…do you know how much that one car of Tony’s is insured for?”

At last, Pepper looked up. There you stood, half hidden behind the wall. Her eyes immediately narrowed. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

“[Name].”

“Okay, I _might_ have scratched it trying out his repulsor gloves. But it’s just a scratch.”

She had to resist the urge to press her forehead to her desk. After a taking moment to mentally prepare herself, Pepper simply groaned and allowed her eyes to shut. “How bad?”

“Pepper–”

“Tell me how bad, [Name].”

Defeated, you slunk over to her desk, and, avoiding eye contact, ran your fingers along its surface. “Like…the entire passenger side.”

All Pepper could do was heave a sigh as she reached for the phone. “I’ll call the insurance company.”

“Thanks, Pep. You’re the best.”

“I know.”


	67. Nothing Left to Lose [Loki Laufeyson]

In the days that followed Loki’s return to Asgard, the royal family spent much of its time trying to deal with its prodigal prince. Few outsiders were allowed to enter the palace, even fewer allowed to visit those dwelling within it. But after all was said and done, after Loki was confined to a room deep within the building, you were the first to take the chance to speak with him.

It wasn’t exactly fun. Two guards flanked you all the way down to the dungeon, and doubtless stood there the entire time you were inside the only occupied cell. As soon as you entered, the corners of Loki’s mouth curled up, but he said nothing. You took his lead and walked over to the bench he was sitting on without speaking a single word.

“Hello,” you said after nearly five minutes of silence had passed. Still, Loki said nothing. “You’ve been away for quite a long time.”

Loki didn’t even look at you. Your fingers curled around your knees.

“You should hear the stories they’re telling outside. It sounds as if you had an adventure.”

To your offering, Loki responded not at all. Your teeth bit into your lower lip as you seriously considered leaving. If your friend of so many years no longer wished to speak to you, it seemed foolish to impose your presence upon him. Just then, however, Loki's mouth opened:

“I missed you. While I was away. All the time. I wondered what you were doing, if you even cared that I was gone, if…if you’d like me still, if you knew what I was doing.”

Your eyes widened and, slowly, you looked up. Loki remained sitting and calm right beside you. Despite everything, your heart gave a strange flutter.

“Why are you telling me this now?” you asked him.

His eyes slid away and toward the door to his room. For a long while, Loki didn’t answer. You’d almost got to the point where you assumed he wouldn’t, that all Loki was waiting for was for you to get up and leave. Then, he took a deep breath and looked back at you, this time with a hint of a smile on his face.

“I have nothing left to lose. Hearing that you don’t feel the same way…well, it won’t be anything compared to everything else I’ve gone through.”

You didn’t answer. Instead, while keeping your gaze locked entirely on his, you slowly took his hand and entwined your fingers with his. “Luckily,” you answered, as you leaned your head on Loki’s shoulder, “I love you, too.”


	68. Told You So [Clint Barton]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, isn't alcoholism funny??? No, Past!Me, it is not. Go stuff a sock down your throat.

Being a part of the world’s greatest superhero team come with a lot of advantages. One of them was _not_ a consistent level of excitement. Huge crises didn’t come around every day, and most afternoons found you bored and spaced out in front of Avengers Tower’s largest television.

“[Name]! [Name]!”

You peered over the back of the sofa to see Clint standing in the entryway. The urgency in his tone had you off the couch before any words came from your own mouth.

“Clint? What is it? We got an alert?”

He shook his head. “No. Natasha and Tony are having a drinking contest.”

“What?”

“Yeah, downstairs. Don’t you want to see it?”

“Duh!” You sprinted over to Clint right as he hit the elevator button for the lobby. “Bet you $50 Natasha beats him.”

“You kidding? Stark is hardcore. You’re on.”

Twenty minutes later, Clint’s last paycheck was nestled safely in your back pocket. One day Clint would learn to stop betting against you. But hopefully not too soon.

You had a lot of student debt to pay off.


	69. Ignorance [Phil Coulson]

Five seconds. Four. Three. Two. One.

There he was.

“Phil!” you shouted, just as the man set foot on the tarmac. He didn’t even have time to react. Before he could do so much as blink, Phil found himself with a woman glommed around his chest. A light hand patted you on the head as best it could from its angle as Phil laughed.

“Hello, [Name]. Miss me?”

“Like you wouldn’t imagine.” You let go and took a step back, though you grabbed his hands at the same time and did not let go. It was a bit difficult to see him through the mist of happy tears in your eyes, but you grinned all the same.

“I missed you, too.” Phil squeezed your hands, then released them so that he could grab his carry-on–the only luggage he ever had.

“How was New Mexico?” you asked as he took one of your hands again and led you out of the airport. Phil smiled.

“Hot and dangerous.”

You threw back your head and laughed. “I’ll never understand how a guy like you can make book keeping so dramatic.”

Another squeeze to your hand and then the two of you were underneath the gray Portland sky. “Hopefully you never will.”


	70. Never Said It Was Right; Never Said It Was Wrong Either [Thor Odinson]

From the moment Thor Odinson and you had met, people could tell things were not going to go smoothly. Both competitive by nature, every meeting inevitably turned into a contest of who could get things done better. His hammer was brutish; your intellect not suited for battle. His ideas were stupid; yours too complicated.

Eventually everyone just decided to leave you two alone when you started going at it.

“I’m surprised your people get anything done if all you do is smash your problems away,” you said coldly, once Steve and Tony had evacuated. Thor remained seated at the other end of the table, his gaze stony.

“I, for onem do not find it surprising that you remain single at your age since you cannot stand to be ever proven wrong.”

“I don’t believe that my relationship status is relevant to this conversation.”

“Perhaps not. It might be relevant to your attitude, however.”

“Are you implying that I need to get laid?” you snapped as you got to your feet.

“I simply suggested that contact with a sympathetic being,” Thor had remained calm through this entire battle. Even then, as he stood himself, his voice stayed calm, “might make you easier to speak to.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Hm.” He regarded you for a moment, then at last broke his cool to chuckle. “Perhaps I should feel sorry for you. No _human_ being would be able to stand you.”

“Oh yeah?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “And what about a god?”

He smirked. “Is that an invitation, [Name]?”

“It’s a challenge.”

Without waiting to hear the rest of challenge, before you could even make a move, Thor closed the distance between you, pulled you close, and enveloped your mouth with his. The anger coursing through your veins faded away quickly, replaced by little twinges as sparks raced through your body. Too quickly, he released you.

“You’re cheating,” you said breathlessly. “Gods kiss different than humans.”

Thor gave you a wide grin in response. “Is it working? Do I win?”

The only answer to that, of course, was to throw your lips against his yourself.


	71. Toxic [Steve Rogers]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, okay? I know. This one is unclear and not great. Every time I post it somewhere, that's what people say. And I get it! Literally the only the reason I'm posting it here is that it's part of a collection and I'd be short one and if I rewrote this it would be like 2500 words minimum. Please feel free to skip ahead to the next prompt.

Steve had been waiting for days for the opportunity. Hours spent in a plastic chair with his heart racing and Tony sending him stupid "cheer up" texts and doctors with absolutely nothing helpful to say–all culminating with Steve standing in front of a door unsure of what to do.

Obviously, he had to go inside sometime. There was a woman in there that he loved. She might be broken. She might not be the same as he remembered. But to ignore her was as good as Steve telling her he wished she’d managed it.

The door handle twisted too-easily underneath his hand and then he stepped inside. The lights overhead sent an almost blinding glare into the tiny room. Though the only pieces of furniture inside were a single bed and two of those same awful chairs, Steve felt claustrophobia set in and cold sweat break out on his neck.

Captain America was supposed to be brave.

Even though he didn’t want to, he forced himself to away from the door. There, in the bed, looking even worse than the time that he’d pulled her out of the twisted wreckage of a burnt up car, was [Name]. Maybe a part of him had hoped she’d still be out of it, because Steve felt his heart race when he saw her [color] eyes flickering in the light.

“Hey,” she said in a hoarse, cracked voice.

“Hey,” Steve answered as he moved to her bedside.

“Pretty flowers,” she remarked.

“They’re for you.”

“Thanks.”

Both of them fell silent, Steve still with his hand wrapped tightly around the bundle of daisies. The only sound in the room was the constant, gentle beep of [Name]’s heart monitor. Nearly a week of time spent with only himself to talk to and Steve felt he should have had something to say. But when it came down to it? He didn’t. All he wanted to know was why.

“I must look horrible.”

Steve wet his lips and nodded uneasily. “You’ve looked better.”

Silence again. Horrible, horrible silence. And finally, the words came out of his mouth, even though Steve didn’t want them to:

“Why’d you do it?”

“Why’d I do what?”

[Name]’s eyes met his. Maybe if she could have colored, she would have. But there wasn’t much color left in the room.

“You don’t know.”

“I–No. Should I?”

She took a deep, shuddering breath that wracked the remains of her body. As usual, that familiar urge to protect the woman filled Steve’s stomach. This, though, was something he couldn’t protect her from. He couldn’t even prepare to. When her eyes met his again, Steve felt another chill wrack his body.

“Then I don’t know what else there is to say.”


	72. It's Getting Easy [Phil Coulson]

Visiting graves had never been your favorite pastime. Not when Grandma passed on, not when Mom died, not when your best friend from college got killed in a car accident. These days, though, it seemed like all you ever did was wander from graveyard to graveyard.

At least that afternoon the sun was shining. Birds sang in the trees; a gentle breeze swept across the grass. There wasn’t even much for you to do after your year of absence. SHIELD did a pretty good job of maintaining their grave sites.

Alone at last, you kneeled in front of the tombstone and allowed a few tears to run down your cheeks.

“Hey, Phil,” you whispered. “How’s it going?”

Nothing happened. Of course not. But if you wanted to pretend the birds’ singing go a little more cheerful, you could.

“Tony says hi, by the way. And Thor. They’re getting along now, you know. Even Tony and Steve.” The burning your chest grew stronger. You shook your head to rid yourself of the feeling. “Okay, maybe not all the time. But enough.”

A flock of geese caught your eye and you allowed yourself to follow their course over the horizon. Once they disappeared, you took a deep breath and got to your feet.

“Take care of yourself, Phil. See you next year.”

Maybe you had more to say, but the words never had a chance to enter your mind. Before they could, a young boy raced out from the nearby building and toward you, his arms waving.

“Mom! Mom! Come on! Uncle Clint says he’s gonna show me the weapons room, but only if you come, too!”

You smiled and took one last lingering look at the gravestone. A smile spread across your face.

“Coming!” you called back, then a little quieter as you walked away from the man you'd once hoped to marry, “I’m coming.”


	73. Beautiful [Bruce Banner]

“Hey, Bruce?”

Your voice, though quiet, carried through your snug little home. As you spoke, you twisted in front of the mirror, exposing your bare back for a moment. That dress. You couldn’t remember the last time you wore a dress. Now there you were, doing so willing.

“Did you call me, [Name]?”

“Well,” you said as you caught Bruce's reflection in the mirror. “Don’t you look handsome?”

He colored slightly in his tuxedo, but stepped farther into the room. “You should see Clint. What did you need?”

In response, you tugged your hair back and glanced over your shoulder. “Zip me up? Natasha couldn’t have ordered me a smaller dress if she tried. I don't know how she suckered me into being maid of honor."

“You like her," Bruce said. "It's sweet." But he still moved closer and gently slid the zipper up toward your neck. Once Bruce finished, you shook your hair back out, straightened your shoulders, and turned toward him.

“How do I look?”

He smiled. “Beautiful.”


	74. Forever and Almost Always [Clint Barton]

Clint could not be sure what had just happened. One moment, he and you were fighting off the men that had spotted you trying to infiltrate. The next, some explosion sent him flying. When he got to his feet, he couldn’t see another person anywhere near him.

“[Name]?” he called as he shook his head, trying desperately to clear it, to see in the smoggy air lingering after the blast. “[Name]?”

No one called back. With his ears still ringing, Clint looked around the dark, collapsed room. No movement, and his being flung onto the ground had caused his ear piece to cease functioning.

There wasn’t anywhere to go. You had to be somewhere there. With his heart thudding in his chest, Clint raced to the largest pile of debris. “[Name]?”

It might have been the ringing in his ears, but Clint thought he heard something down there. There was no time to lose. He shoved the bigger chunks of building away and began to dig. Clint’s fingernails tore and bled, but he hardly noticed because as soon as he got to the bottom, he found what he was looking for.

“Clint,” you said weakly. A trail of blood slid from the corner of your lip and down your chin. “There you are.”

With one hand, Clint reached up to tap his ear piece. Still nothing. No way to call for backup. With his other hand, he rolled the remaining objects on top of you onto to the floor.

“Here I am. Are you okay?”

“I–” His heart gave an almighty thunk as he saw your glassy eyes blink up at his face. “I can’t move, Clint. I can’t move anything.”

“Don’t try to move. You probably have a head injury.” Clint looked away, although he didn’t want to, his own sharp eyes desperately trying to pierce the darkness and find an escape route. No flash of inspiration was forthcoming.

When he looked back, your eyelids were drooping. Only then did he see the mass of congealed hair and blood on the crown of your head.

“Hey,” he said gently. Even shaking your shoulder didn’t seem to have any effect. Where was the rest of the team? Why couldn’t they tell they’d lost contact? “Hey. What are you _doing_?”

Your eyes slid shut. Clint shook you harder. If the rest of them didn’t hurry, it would be too late.

“Clint,” you murmured, and he barely caught the words over the ringing in his ears. “I don’t think…”

“Stay with me, [Name].” Not today. Not now. Clint began to tear through his pocket. Why did he have so much ammunition? “Stay with me!”

“I…”

At last, his fingers wrapped around the tiny box. He practically tore it out of the pocket in his rush to open it on your shoulder. When Clint nudged you again, your eyes flickered open.

“[Name], just stay with me for a moment, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Just answer this one question.” Your eyes drifted shut again; Clint nudged you sharply. “Will you marry me?”

“Clint–” You winced as your chest caught around the words. “I don’t think–”

“Just answer the question, [Name].” Clint’s fingers tightened around your shoulders. His voice was hoarse when he whispered again, “Please.”

With what obviously took a great deal of effort, you opened your eyes. “Yes, Clint. I’ll marry you.”

The breath he had been holding released, allowing Clint to give you a very strained, tear-filled smile.

“Thank you,” he said as your eyes closed and your chest stopped moving. “Thank you.”


	75. The Devil in Me [Pepper Potts]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think this prompt looks familiar, you're right! It got on the list twice somehow.

“Peeeepper…Peeeeeepper…”

Your whispered song echoed gently through the empty halls of Stark Tower. Normally you didn’t make that much noise when trying to find your girlfriend in the middle of the night, but with all the recent construction, well, there wasn’t much to help muffle your footsteps or your voice.

“Peeeeeepper?”

Which begged the question as to why she hadn’t figured out that you were looking for her. Things had been hectic lately, sure, but she seemed distant–even more so when you woke up to find the bed still empty.

At last, your eyes caught the gleam of light at the end of the hallway. You picked up your pace and peeked around the corner. There, sitting on the cream-colored couch, with a tablet and a pile of papers on the table in front of her, was Pepper.

Work, of course. Did she ever _stop_ working? You cleared your throat and Pepper gave a tiny start.

“[Name]?” she asked, as her eyes found yours. A long yawn interrupted her before she could continue. “What are you doing up so late? It’s nearly three in the morning.”

“ _You’re_ up,” you retorted as you rounded the corner. Pepper blinked, exhaustion clearly confusing her, but her eyes opened wide as she took in your little ensemble.

“What are you _wearing_?”

You paused, smirked, then posed. “Why? You like it?”

“It’s…” Pepper shook her head and then shuffled her papers. “Very nice. But why are you wearing it?”

Your smirk turned into a pout as you dropped into the seat next to her. “I was hoping it’d distract you from you work.”

She yawned again and rubbed at one of her eyes. “I can’t be distracted, [Name]. I have too much to do, what with the tower getting practically destroyed and trying to make room for all the new tenants and all those newscasters wanting interviews and–”

You cut her off by grabbing her wrist. “Pepper. We haven’t had sex in weeks.”

Pepper sighed, her shoulders drooping. “I know, [Name]. And you look nice. I just can’t–”

In a millisecond, you had dropped Pepper’s hand and latched your teeth none too gently into her neck. She gasped, which brought your grin back before you swiped your tongue gently over the affected area.

“Come on,” you purred. “Let Tony do his own paperwork for once. It’ll be a good lesson for him.”

Pepper closed her eyes for one, long moment, then opened them again and reached for her tablet. “It’s not like I’m doing this out of charity. Tony pays me to do this.”

With an angry huff, you pried the object out of her hand and then climbed into her lap. “Pepper,” you said before you kissed her as hard as you could. “Sex now, boring Stark Industries crap later. It’s Saturday morning. Your shift is _over_.”

Her gaze flickered between your face and her work for a minute longer before she relaxed into the couch, defeated. You grinned and dipped your head for another kiss.

“You’re such a bad influence,” Pepper said. You took her hand and pulled her from the couch and back toward the hall.

“I know.”


	76. Insomniac [Natasha Romanoff]

Four o’ clock in the morning and your cellphone buzzed–unfortunately _not_ the continuous buzz of a phone call, but the two staccato jolts of a text message. The blue light from the television flickered over your unseeing eyes as you waited, waited. No other information came, however. And what had might end up vitally important.

With your heart hammering despite its rock-like weight in your chest, you reached out of your blanket cocoon. The empty gas station coffee cups surrounding you fell to the floor with quiet _thunks_ as you knocked them over looking for your cellphone. When at last you found it and brought the screen to your bleary vision, you recognized the number immediately.

It was Clint.

_Heard from anyone yet?_

This meant _he_ hadn’t either. Clint, an actual SHIELD agent, hadn’t heard anything and was so desperate he had turned to you. You tried to squash your fear as you replied:

_Nothing. Why would anyone tell me?_

The television, being on mute, did nothing to distract you as you waited for a response. It took nearly five agonizing minutes for Clint to answer.

_She’ll be home soon. She has to be._

_Director Fury doesn’t think so._

A longer wait, then:

_With all due respect, Director Fury is an idiot._

That, you assumed was supposed to make you laugh. Nothing had made you feel much like laughing in the past two weeks, though. Not since you’d heard about everything: the explosion, the hacked communication line, the contact that hadn’t heard anything for a week past the set time.

_Did Tony steal your phone again?_ you asked

_What, I can’t try to make my best friend’s girlfriend feel better?_

You pursed your lips together. Nice as it was to know that you and Clint were past that awkward stage of jealousy, you wished it hadn’t come at the possibility of such a high cost.

_Thanks, but…I think I’m going to go to bed._

_Alright. Text me if you need anything. Or call._

_Thanks. Again. Good night._

But you couldn’t sleep, not with Natasha gone from the face of the planet. A fresh wave of tears threatened to overwhelm you, and, to beat it off, you turned up the volume on the television and brought your blanket up to your face. You weren’t the praying type–never had been–but still, as the tears leaked slowly from the corners of your eyes, you whispered into your hands.

“Please let her be okay. Please. Please.”

The channel turned to reruns of old black and white shows with saccharin names. Several times, your eyelids drooped, but on the edges of your dreams lay nightmares of blood-spattered snow, of bruised faces, of familiar and distraught screams.

The lock at the door clicked, startling you from your daze of horror. You whipped around, eyes wide, ready to run–

Through the door stepped Natasha–tired, cut up, left arm in a sling. But when she saw you, she actually smiled.

“Home,” she whispered through broken lips. “I’m–home.”

You grinned in response. “Welcome home.”


	77. Taking Control [Tony Stark]

Normally, you liked to think of yourself as a strong sort of person. When customers gave you a hard time, you answered with a smile. When you got kicked out of your first apartment by your roommate and her boyfriend, you’d manage well enough on a park bench until you found a place of your own. You knew how to handle adversity in the least obtrusive way.

Or so you’d thought.

Because something you couldn’t laugh away was the massive, shrieking space-worm-dragon-thing bearing down upon you. All around, people screamed and cars exploded and policemen tried desperately to get everyone moving in the right direction. You, though? You were frozen, only able to stare as your life flashed in front of your eyes.

“Get down!”

Those were the only words that warned you that someone was coming. Maybe if you’d heeded them, you could have avoided being smashed into by some flying object that slammed you into a brick wall.

“Are you okay?”

Dazed, frightened, with tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks, you could answer only by finding the face of the man that had saved you, or what you assumed was his face. It was covered by a mask. Was he another alien? Your mouth worked to answer.

The mask flipped up, revealing a very human face. You released the breath you’d been holding and choked on the oxygen. The man patted your back with his armored hand.

“I’m–fine,” you managed to sputter. He nodded.

“Good.” The mask snapped back down; he turned again toward the fray. “Follow the alleyway to the back. Keep your head down and next time? Don’t let one of those things get that close.”

"Will do."

He looked back at you one last time, then erupted into the air. As he did, though, you could have sworn you heard him say:

"Stay safe."


	78. Slow Down [Thor Odinson]

It took Thor maybe ten seconds to lose you.

“Asgard!”

They were the last words he heard, a joyful shout at finally being able to see his home realm. He smiled, threw back his head to laugh at your contagious excitement, and when he looked back again, you were gone.

“[Name]?” he asked as he walked through the halls of the royal palace. How did one Midgardian move so quickly? It should have been apparent enough that you weren’t an intruder, so Thor wasn’t much worried about someone attacking you. Still, bilgesnipes _were_ a problem that time a year. Besides that, Thor had been planning on the whole trip being a bit more romantic than you ditching him the first chance you got.

Then your head popped around a corner. “Come on, slowpoke!” you cried. “We have a lot to see!”

Leery about losing you again, Thor only smiled as he laughed this time, and wandered up to take your hand.

“What’s the rush?" he asked. "We have all the time in the Nine Realms.”


	79. I.D.G.A.F. [Steve Rogers]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This so out of character I can't even.

“[Name], wait!”

The voice, so familiar and so loved, still made the fire of anger course more quickly through your veins. Instead of doing as the man asked, though, you just kept marching forward. He could stop you if he really wanted to, and apparently he did. A large hand brought you to a grinding halt before you could pass the curb.

“What?” you spat. Steve’s eyes tightened as he licked his lips, looking, perhaps, for the right words.

“I’m sorry.”

You snorted. “I’ve heard that before.”

“Look, [Name], this isn’t my fault.”

“Oh? Then whose fault is it?”

“I–Nobody’s!” Steve said. He’d released you, but the proximity of his body to yours made it clear you wouldn’t get far if you tried to leave again. “It just happens!”

“So those women just trip and their tongues accidentally fall in your mouth, huh?”

“I didn’t say that.” He rolled his eyes heavenward, but brought them back to your face before he spoke again. “I’m Captain America. They just…kiss me. It’s not like I’m asking for it.”

“You could do better than kiss them back!”

“You know, Peggy forgave me when she found out that other woman was the one that kissed me.”

You leveled a glare at Steve, then whirled about and strode quickly back the way you’d been going. Steve’s exasperated sigh could be heard even above the gentle hum of the late night traffic.

“[Name], wait. I’m sorry.”

You turned and walked back. “You know what Steve? I don’t give a fuck anymore. Why don’t you just go back to Peggy, if she was so damn perfect?”

His next words nearly broke your heart. “You know why I can’t.”

“Then one of those other girls, Steve,” you whispered. “Because we’re done.”


	80. Ghost [Loki Laufeyson]

Sometimes, he’d wake up in the middle of the night. No rhyme, no reason, just fear. Even pleasant dreams could end in that: the cold emptiness of space, the desolate surface of the rock he’d been taken to, the way he’d known to agree or choose death.

“Loki?” A sleepy voice interrupted another one of those flashbacks and the bed next to him shifted. “Are you okay?”

He wanted to tell you that he was fine, just go back to bed, but before he could, you must have seen the emotion in his eyes.

“Was it another nightmare?”

“Not a nightmare,” Loki answered. He flicked a hand lethargically in the air. “Just…a feeling.”

You sat up and looked closely at him. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Hm,” Loki hummed gently and entwined his fingers with yours. “Just be with me, as much as you can.”

In return, you smiled and squeezed his fingers. “It’s a promise.”


	81. Haunt [Phil Coulson]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from "Addiction"...

When you woke up, two things were abundantly clear:

1) You were sober.

2) You had hangover the size of Texas.

You desired neither of these statuses. Sober meant thinking, remembering. Hungover meant a headache. A really _bad_ headache. The bright light in the room flooded your eyes for only half a second–maybe not even that long–before you snapped them back shut.

Wait…bright light?

Slowly, you lifted your eyelids until you could look around. White walls. Tiny room. Faint smell of cleaning chemicals and medications. A hospital, then. But you couldn’t remember going to one.

The adrenaline kicked in before you could remember the headache. You scissor kicked the thin blankets off your legs and lurched onto the floor–quite literally. Your legs did not hesitate to collapse beneath you.

But the thoughts still came, wild and buzzing, of torture, of enemies, of drugs that could incapacitate you. Your fingernails scrabbled against the bed as you tried desperately to get back on your feet.

“Woah there.”

The gentle words came just as a pair of arms wrapped around your torso. You froze, but not because you were being touched. No, that voice. You _knew_ that voice. Terrified, you twisted your neck slowly around to get a glimpse of the man. One look was all it took to identify him: Phil Coulson. A scream erupted form your throat.

The tiniest hint of a smile tugged at Phil’s mouth. “Do you want the nurses to come in? Because I could go ask. No need to shout.”

“Wh–What are you doing here?”

“Making sure you’re all right. Last night I think I scared you.” Again with the smile. “Although that’s nothing compared to today. Must be the lack of alcohol in your system.”

“Last night?” you asked, eyes still wide, fingers still wrapped tightly around a clump of blanket. Hazy, darkened pictures drifted through your mind. Tears began to drip down your cheeks. “Are you haunting me?”

“No,” Phil answered firmly. Distracted as you were, you didn’t notice him helping you back into bed before he’d got you settled.

“But you’re _dead_.”

“No, just on vacation.”

You weren’t quite sure if you could trust him or not. If you’d been captured, Phil could easily be a hallucination. Not to mention that you’d taken to drinking far too much and it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that you’d completely snapped. He seemed to understand what you were thinking though, since he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“You’re in a hospital,” he explained. “SHIELD regulated, of course. I brought you here after you passed out last night. You need to get a bit cleaned up.”

The crying had stopped, but you looked up at Phil with wide, tear-filled eyes. All you could manage was a nod. A part of your brain already believed this story; the other half was attempting to convince it not to.

Phil took a deep breath. “Officially, I have another,” he looked at his watch, “six months of vacation time. I’ll stay here until you’re feeling better. _Then_ will you believe I’m not a ghost?”

You gave him a shaky nod. “Maybe.”

He smiled. “Good.”

“I love you,” you murmured, just as you passed out again. Phil replied with a whisper-soft kiss to your forehead.

“Love you, too.”


	82. Desire [Bruce Banner]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, I DID watch "Big Bang Theory," so, yes, I stole this from there.

“Bruce. Hey. Bruce.”

Bruce sighed. Honestly, it was hard enough getting his work done with Tony around to be ever-distracting. But add in this new found desire of yours to prove you were smart (when Bruce had never _once_ said that you weren’t), and he was certain he’d never complete another project again.

“What is it, [Name]?” he asked in a tired voice. His eyes remained glued to the monitor, but Bruce could hear you pull yourself onto one of the lab tables before you continued.

“Well, I looked up some science classes that I could take, you know. So I could be as smart as you and Tony.”

He resisted pointing out that that wasn’t really how it worked and kept poking at his screen. Maybe you'd take the hint and come back later. No such luck; you spoke again:

“But, I came up with a _better_ idea. Even if I can’t be for real smart, I might as well look it.”

“That’s nice, [Name].”

Your shoes hit the tile and Bruce heard every footstep as you walked over to him. He wasn’t going to look over, though. Too much to do, not enough time.

“Bruce. Look at me.”

“I’m a little busy.”

“Look at me.”

“I don’t–”

“Just do it!”

“Why?” said Bruce, and turned his head in your direction unthinkingly. He saw a smirk and then you plucked the glasses right off his face. “[Name], what are you doing?”

“One moment please,” you said as you adjusted his glasses onto your nose. Flummoxed, Bruce could only watch in silence–until you slid them down your nose and said, “Gamma radiation.”

That was all it took. Forget the notes. Forget the program. He grabbed your wrist and kept going.

“Where are we going?” you asked as Bruce dragged you toward the elevator.

“My bedroom,” he answered. “I’m going to take everything off of you but those glasses.”


	83. Fantasy [Loki Laufeyson]

Every single part of you hurt: your sides–your lips–your neck–your arms. Good Allfather, even your _toes_ seemed to ache. But it was a _good_ ache, one that came with a pleasant buzz that drifted through your mind.

Oh, yeah. Married life was going to suit you just fine. The thought that you’d made it–really, truly, finally made it–to Asgard, not just to visit, but as a permanent resident staying with the man of your dreams made you laugh and squirm onto your back and the pillows that had managed to remain in their original positions.

“Why so happy?” Loki asked as he threaded his fingers lazily through your hair. You heaved a sigh, still too exhausted from the start of your honeymoon to drag yourself into a sitting position.

“It’s just…so amazing.”

“Well, not to brag, but I am rather good at–”

A playful smack to the head made him stop talking, but Loki grinned down at you all the same. “Not that!” you said. “This!” You threw your arms outward and up and they flumped down onto the pillow next to you on one side and Loki’s chest on the other. You flipped over toward him and snuggled into his side. “It’s like all those dreams I had as a girl got fulfilled. Even though they, you know…didn’t.”

He stopped playing with your hair long enough to frown. “What do you mean?”

For a moment, you thought about sitting up to speak, but decided you were more comfortable where you were. “Let me try to explain. On earth, most girls dream about getting married from a pretty young age. Barbie, and all that. You find a great guy, you get married, you live in an enormous house, and then you go through roughly eighty-three different professions before you turn thirty-two.”

“But you haven’t done half of that.”

“I know.” You shifted enough to kiss him, and the look he gave you in response told you quite clearly a repeat of the past twenty minutes was probably going to kick in again soon. “Marrying a gorgeous alien-slash-deity prince was never a fantasy that occurred to me personally, but…”

Loki moved so that he was hovering above you–and not particularly far above either. His smirk remained firmly in place and you couldn’t resist grinning back at him as you said:

“It’s a more than fair trade off, I think.”


	84. Unconditional [Tony Stark]

You knew the paparazzi were there before they even started shouting, before the light bulbs started flashing and the cameras started rolling. After a year and a half of dating Tony Stark, you came to expect that kind of behavior, or at the very least anticipate it.

“Miss [L Name]! Miss [L Name]!” One of the reporters managed to force his way to front of the pack. Happy, who was on loan while you did some shopping, simply looked at you questioningly. You answered by smiling at the journalist.

He took this as an invitation to go on. “Mr. Stark, your boyfriend, has been seen again in the arms of a couple of Victoria’s Secret models.”

“Yes.”

“At a party.”

“Yes.”

“Without you.”

“Yes.”

Your blandly agreeable responses put the lot of them off. A couple of cameras flashed again, then faded into the background of confused murmuring. The man scratched his head and looked at the rest of them. At last he hazarded a:

“And you’re _okay_ with that?”

That time, you grinned. “After being with Tony so long, I think it’s reasonable for me to assume these sorts of things happen from time to time.”

No one, it seemed, had an answer to that. Happy hustled you past and only ducked his head to whisper in your ear when the pack had disappeared behind you:

“Very nice job.”

“Thanks,” you whispered back. “Now take me home. I have to yell at my boyfriend.”


	85. Just This Once [Pepper Potts]

God, you were lucky to have a girl like Pepper.

If you could be thankful for anything in your life, it was definitely that. She was professional, gorgeous, and didn’t take crap from anyone. And on top of that, she didn’t seem to mind at all that compared to her, well…you didn’t really make all that much money.

Sometimes, it got embarrassing, going to dinner with her. Or on anniversaries, when you couldn’t afford much more than a flower or a nice-ish piece of jewelry. Pepper didn’t spoil you, but she took it in stride, didn’t even seem to notice how little you could give her in return.

Which was why you’d been saving and scrimping for the past three months. That time, when it came time to pay for the meal (where you usually went dutch as often as you could), you grabbed her wrist before she could take the bill. Pepper blinked at you and you gave her a shy smile.

“Let me pay. Just this once.”


	86. Pieces of My Heart [Natasha Romanoff]

Natasha didn’t like dealing with emotion. The whole affair was messy, in her opinion, and often unneeded.

Why then, was she stuck in a room, watching you bawl your eyes out over the death of your brother?

She doubted that her usual responses would do much. Tell you to just walk it off? Hardly likely, seeing how close you two had been. Suggest that crying could come later? You didn’t have a mission scheduled for weeks. Simply ignore it? Hard, considering how use she was to seeing you smile.

“I’m–I’m–really sorry!” you sobbed into your knees. Natasha unconsciously tightened her grip around the couch cushion. “I just–”

Well she had to do _something_. But what? She pursed her lips together and the seconds ticked away. Sometimes your cries faded into sniffles, but soon they were back again. You’d look like an absolute mess when it came time for debriefing.

“Um,” was all she could think to say as she patted you twice quickly on the shoulder. Maybe that was enough. Another haggard sniffle and you turned your face towards hers.

“Thanks.”


	87. Back Against the Wall [Thor Odinson]

Growing up, Thor fought terrifying beast after terrifying beast. He’d slayed them all, too–well, most of them. And with his friends, tight moments, when winning wasn’t certain, definitely happened.

But he was completely unprepared for the relatively tiny creature advancing toward him.

“[Name],” he said as he backed away. “What are you doing?”

The wall pressed against his back. Thor glanced toward it once, then back to you. He could probably dodge; he could probably attack, but he liked you and would rather not cause you physical harm.

You paused to consider his question.

“Remember when I said I liked this wall?”

“Yes, although I still do not understand the meaning of this comment.”

A wicked grin flashed across your face. “I decided it would look better with you against it.”

Then you pounced and stuck your tongue down his throat.


	88. Bounce [Steve Rogers]

Steve could never prepare himself for the experience of having a small child placed on his knee, only to look at him with identical same blue eyes. Nine months, watching you get more and more pregnant, three months with the baby in the house, and yet Steve still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it.

The baby just stared back up at him with a bit of drool dripping from one corner of his thin lips. Steve’s hands moved to protectively hold him, but his gaze went back to you.

“What do I do?”

You smiled. “He’s a baby. Bounce him.”

Still unsure, Steve did as told and moved his leg gently up and down. The baby gurgled, then showed his gums. An incredulous grin lit up Steve’s face as he looked back up at you. “I think he likes it!”

You sat a hand on Steve’s head. “I think he likes _you_.”


	89. Word on the Street [Clint Barton]

“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. This is so _stupid_.”

Clint had been uttering those same words to himself, at the same point on the street, at the same time, for the past two weeks. He knew it was stupid, breaking cover like that. Not even over something life threatening! Just a girl.

Just a beautiful, smile-meets-the-eyes, coffee-addicted girl. Or maybe it wasn’t coffee; Clint didn’t know. There was always a cup in your hand, but every single time, he got too distracted by your eyes to take in the rest of the details.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. is definitely going to fire me after this one," he muttered to himself.

“Who’s ‘SHIELD’?”

He jumped and suddenly there you were. “I–” Clint could just imagine Natasha’s laughter. A super spy that got caught by his mark. For some reason, his spluttering didn’t put you off. You just smiled and flipped some hair over your shoulder.

“I see you here every day.” Your lips twisted into a smirk. “Watching me.”

“I’m not…” Clint swallowed around his return of speech, "watching you.”

“Uh-huh. Well.” You shrugged one shoulder and sauntered away. Still feeling the rush of embarrassment in his limbs, Clint didn’t say anything. Then you turned your head. “Guess you don’t want to go for coffee, then.”

“Coffee sounds great.”

“I thought it might.”


	90. Warm Me Up [Phil Coulson]

“Hold on, guys. I’ve got to take this.”

No one so much as looked your way. You didn’t blame them; a frozen super soldier was much more interesting than the comings and goings of a superior officer. With a sigh, you ducked out of the tent and answered your phone.

“[L Name].”

“How are things?” You could barely suppress a groan at the sound of Director Fury’s voice. Really, he couldn’t even be bothered to announce himself now. That was a sure sign that two of you were getting a little _too_ close.

“It’s…going,” you answered for the sixth time that day.

“Making any headway?”

“They’ve got up to his waist defrosted now, sir.” Silence. You knew he wanted better news than that. You wished you could give it to him. Finding Captain Rogers was great. Wonderful. Really, it was. But three days into that little venture, and you were definitely getting sick of all the snow and ice. Especially since you could only seem to get a decent cell phone signal outside and Director Fury wouldn’t stop calling. “They have to go slow. If they rush it, they might do damage to his tissue.”

Director Fury let out a breath of air so low that it was almost a hiss. When he spoke, it was not to comment on the length of that particular mission. Instead, he said, “But you’re keeping an eye on that.”

“And Coulson is keeping two,” you said. “We’ll call you if there’s anything important to relay, sir. I promise.”

“See that you do. I’ll check in later.”

He hung up without so much as a goodbye. Not that one was entirely necessary, since Director Fury said that every time, but still called within the next forty-five minutes. You stuffed your phone into a pocket and threw a glance at the entrance to the tent. As much as you hated the cold, at least it wasn’t so terribly boring out in the elements, what with the threat of hypothermia and all. Although you would never admit it, you were with Directory Fury on this one. You might choose to risk damage to Captain America if it meant you could go home just a little sooner.

You were so distracted by your mental grumbling that you didn’t even notice Phil walk up to you until he announced his presence by asking, “Chilly?”

“Very,” you said, working to keep your voice level. It wasn’t Phil’s fault you were stuck out here, though he was obviously enjoying it more than you. Even then, he was clearly dying to grin at you. “Why aren’t you in there, making sure no one accidentally burns off his hair?”

“They won’t,” Phil answered. “Besides, I thought you could use with a bit of warming up.” He held up a Styrofoam cup with a thick black cap that still had steam issuing from it. You took it wordlessly and sipped at the drink inside–cocoa. The warmth pooled in your belly as you smiled.

“Thanks.”

“Any time. Ready to get back in there?”

“Hardly.” You took a step in that direction. “But the cocoa helps.”


	91. If It Means a Lot to You [Pepper Potts]

The alarm clock went off, as usual, at exactly five am. Just as exactly, Pepper turned it off with a quick smack of the button and sat up. You, meanwhile, groaned into the dark.

“What is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, you considered laying there and just letting her get on with it. Once Pepper started getting ready, however, _you_ would have to get ready. Or at least you wouldn't be able to get back to sleep.

“Pepper, it’s _Saturday_.”

A lamp clicked on. With a loud grumble, you flipped over and pressed your pillow to your face. Did Pepper hate you or something? Because that was the only explanation you could think of for her attempting to burn out your eyes.

“I _know_ that it’s Saturday,” she said, and you felt the bed beneath you shift upward as she stood. “I have work to do. Besides, getting up at the same time every day helps you sleep better.”

“It doesn’t help _me_ sleep better.”

“Well, what would you like me to do about it, [Name]? Do you want to sleep in another room?”

“No!” Why was she being so melodramatic? You only wanted to sleep! “Can’t you just…walk to the bathroom in the dark?”

You heard Pepper heave one of her weight-of-the-world-on-her-shoulders sighs, then the lamp turned off once more. The sound of footsteps across the carpet announced that she was leaving, but not before she whispered:

“If it means a lot to you.”


	92. Two-faced [Steve Rogers]

You were reading when Steve appeared in your doorway. Considering his bulk, it didn’t take you long to notice. Much of the light in your room quite suddenly disappeared. When you looked up, it was to see him looking almost uncomfortable about standing there.

“Problem, Steve?” you asked. 

He winced. “I need help.”

“With what? Are you and Tony having another row?”

Apparently taking your casual question asking as acquiescence to let him enter the room, Steve ducked inside. His large fingers ran once through his hair before he looked back up at you.

“It’s not a row, exactly. I just–I need something of his to repair my bike and he won’t let me use it.”

You snorted as you leaned back in your seat to regard Steve more clearly. “Yeah, that sounds like Tony. But can you even use whatever this thing is, Steve?”

A light pink spread across his cheeks. “ _Yes_. It’s just a _wrench_.”

“So what do you need _me_ for?”

“Could you ask Tony if you could use it?” Steve asked, then hastily added, “He likes you. Probably because you're, you know..." he gestured without looking at your chest, "but still.”

“Well, my breasts _are_ pretty fantastic.” His definite blush at those words was reward enough. With a sigh, you got to your feet and headed toward the door. “But you owe me, Steve.”

“Deal,” he called after you, sounding quite relieved.

It took only one quiet elevator ride for you to make it to Tony’s laboratory. The door was open, and through the gap drifted the sounds of Tony and Bruce’s voices. Evidently, they were deep in conversation, as neither noticed your presence until you knocked. When they did, Bruce flashed you smile, but Tony didn’t even turn around.

“I already told you no, Captain. Go bother someone else. Or better, buy your own shit.”

“That’s harsh, Tony,” you said, and he at last turned around. For good measure, you batted your eyelashes as you sauntered into the room. “I just came to ask you for a favor.”

Tony, however, wasn’t giving in that easily. “What sort of favor?” he asked with his eyes narrowed. You stuck out your lower lip before responding:

“I just need to borrow a wrench.”

“For what?”

“For…” Damn, that was something you should have thought of before leaving Steve. As it was, the best you could think of was, “For my hairdryer.”

“Your hairdryer,” Tony repeated.

“Yes. I just want to try modifying it a bit. It’s going too slowly. What if Loki attacked us and my hair was still wet?”

For a long moment, he simply glared at you. You were just as good at the game as he was, though, and stood there, twisting your hips back and forth and looking expectantly up at him. Bruce simply watched, apparently trying not to laugh. Just as you thought Tony wasn’t going to cough up the tool, though, he rolled his eyes and thrust it into your hands.

“Fine. Just bring it back when you’re done with it.”

“Thanks, Tony!” you squealed. “You’re the best!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Before it could occur to Tony that you were just there in place of Steve, you took off. The man in question was still waiting in your bedroom when you came back, though now _he_ was sitting awkwardly in the too-small chair and looking at the wanted posters pinned to your walls. When you appeared, he jumped right up.

“Did you get it?”

“Taken care of.” You offered him the wrench, and Steve took it with an incredulous smile.

“I don’t know how you do it, [Name]. I honestly don’t.”

“Well, they had to let me in the team for some reason. I guess it was my ability to manipulate Tony Stark.” Steve looked as though he didn’t know whether or not to laugh at that, but when you cracked a smile, he chuckled.

“Thanks, [Name].”

“No problem. If you have any other problems with that jackass, you know where to come. And about my fee…”

“Ride on my bike later?” he suggested.

“You’ve got yourself a date.”


	93. Quiet [Bruce Banner]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, this is the first thing I ever wrote that got me a flame. I take criticism fine, but I remember this one in particular because they ALL CAP'sed at me for getting Bruce so out of character. Not sure why they chose this chapter, because there are plenty of wonky characterizations they could have actually yelled at me about.

When you walked in the door after work, you nearly tripped over a mound of clothes. Your first thought was that your house had been ransacked, but no, everything of worth still appeared to be right where you had left it. Your second thought was that you had somehow trailed your entire hamper behind you leaving that morning, but that couldn’t be it either.

Then it struck you like a bolt of lightning:

“Bruce!”

The shirt left in the entryway wasn’t the only part of the trail. Next you found a watch, then an overstuffed backpack, and even, right in front of the bedroom door, a pair of pants. You paused to take a deep breath before opening the door; you didn’t want to startle him. But when you did crack the door open, it was to find the room beyond utterly still. Bruce lay in a confused heap, half on the floor, half on the bed, wearing pajamas you only saw when he managed to run out of every other pair he owned.

You felt a jolt of worry in your stomach. Was something wrong? Was he hurt?

The very next moment, Bruce gave a tremendous snore. You smiled.

It was true that you hadn’t seen Bruce in nearly two months. To be honest, you wanted nothing more than to tackle him onto the floor and demand that he tell you everything over a home-cooked meal. Judging by his inability to finish pulling himself onto the bed before he fell asleep, though, he was exhausted. You could leave him be for the moment.

After all, who knew when the next time he’d really get to rest would be?


	94. Hide and Seek [Tony Stark]

You woke up to a room full of sunshine and an empty bed. As you stretched, your legs got caught in the sheets tangled around your body. Rolling over, you found the rest of the bed was cold. You sat up.

“Tony?”

He wasn’t there. The room was utterly vacant.

“Hey, Tony!”

You received no answer. Trembling slightly, you got to your feet and padded over to the bathroom door. Upon peering inside, however, you saw that Tony wasn’t there either. Neither was he in the closet or in the alcove that held that room's computer. It took quite a bit of strength of will for you to walk back to the bed, only to collapse onto a corner and cover your face with your hands.

The images of the night before flooded your mind, only that time, they were tainted with shame. Tony had said you were different, special, and like every other stupid woman he’d seduced, you’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. Any moment now, Miss Potts was going to walk in with your clothes and a clean toothbrush and tell you to take a hike.

“Miss [L Name],” came a polite voice from somewhere in the vicinity of the ceiling. With a little start, you looked wildly around, but you couldn’t see a single person. Suddenly aware that you were still naked, you hastily threw the bed sheets around your body before asking:

“Who are you?”

“My name is JARVIS. I’m Mr. Stark’s butler, for want of a better term. I’ve come to give you a message.”

Though you certainly didn’t feel calm, having someone to talk to distracted you enough that it made you want to continue. You squinted around the room, even ducked once to look underneath the bed, but still couldn’t see anyone.

“What kind of message?” you asked. “Does Tony need me to clear out?”

“No actually,” said JARVIS, and he paused to allow you to express disbelief. When you didn’t, he continued, “Mr. Stark is in the garage downstairs. He says to come get him when you’re ready for breakfast.”


	95. Positive Tension [Clint Barton]

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t [F Name] [L Name].”

“Mr. Barton,” you said in tones of delight, as the man took your hand and gave it a quick kiss on the knuckles. When his head rose, you saw him smirking, but the expression was clearly lost on your host. The elderly gentleman simply looked between the two of you and then beamed.

“So you know each other!” he cried.

“Mr. Barton and I frequently run in the same social circles,” you remarked with a smile. 

Clint shoved his hands into his pockets and smiled back. “It’s been too long, [Name]. I was starting to think someone lost you.”

You gave him a tinkling laugh. “Not quite yet, I’m afraid. I’m surprised to see _you_ here, though.”

“Mr. Barton received an invitation from my benefactor just a few nights ago,” your host explained. “Mr. Barton, Miss [L Name] is here as my personal guest.”

“Isn’t that nice,” said Clint.

Maybe your host noticed the barely perceptible tension in the air that had gathered the moment Clint spotted you, maybe he didn't. He _did_ throw his arms into the air, clap you each on the back, and begin making his way toward the sounds of the party being thrown down the hall.

“Where are my manners?” he said. “You must be hungry, Miss [Name]. There will be food this way. Come, come.”

You motioned for him to lead the way, and he did. Both you and Clint waited for him to draw forward enough to be out of listening rage, but you struck first. You grabbed the center of his bow tie and dragged Clint closer to your face.

“Lay off, SHIELD. This is _my_ kill.”

“Really?” Clint laughed, though he kept the sound quiet, so as not to draw suspicion. “I wasn’t aware you had the capabilities of taking care of this sort of thing.”

“Shut up. I’m the better shot and you know it.”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “But I can’t wait to find out. May the best archer win?”

You threw him away from you with a disgusted snort. “I intend to.”


	96. Division [Loki Laufeyson]

The rulers of Asgard had never been known as slouches when it came to the gala department, and the ball thrown the night before Thor’s coronation didn’t change that. Wide, golden tables draped in fine white cloth stood at the ends of the enormous room. The smells of food and wine wafted pleasantly from every side. Strains of music hung low over the buzz of conversation.

You hummed along with the tune as you meandered through the crowd. Thor was busy, and would be busy for a while yet. That left you free to look around for people you might enjoy speaking to–not that Sif wasn’t fun to talk to. You just didn’t have a lot in common with her.

Everyone appeared to be having a pleasant time. The dance floor never emptied, though plenty of people milled about to eat the delicacies on their plates. You peered from one face to another, wondering when you would find who you were looking for.

The first sour face you found had you stopping in your tracks. Sure enough, it was Loki, lounging on a seat far behind the rest of the crowd. A few young women stood behind him tittering; the tittering turned to grumbling as you approached him. You ignored their complaints as usual.

“My lord.” You gave Loki a sweeping curtsy. He only rolled his eyes in response, but he did not send you away. Taking that as permission to sit down next to him, you did. “Why do you look so upset? Are you not enjoying the party?”

“The party is not for _me_ ,” Loki said with barely concealed bitterness. “I am therefore under no obligation to enjoy it.”

“True, but you might as well.”

He twisted so that his back was toward you, and you felt your heart sink. After the recent news, you expected Loki to be disappointed, but you’d rather hoped he wouldn’t completely wall you off. It would make the women still standing a few feet away, whispering to each other about asking for a dance, happy, but things would be hard enough for you without Loki hating you, too.

“Loki,” you began.

“Why are you here?” he interrupted flatly.

“I was invited.”

“No, I mean why are you talking to _me_ ,” Loki said. “You are officially my brother’s consort now, are you not?”

“Yes, but–”

“But what?” Loki demanded as he whirled back toward you. “Did you think things wouldn’t change when you got engaged to him? You are to be queen, and I am doomed forever to be nothing more than Thor’s shadow.”

“What does that matter?” you asked, and only barely managed to change your hurt into exasperation. “Loki, I still love you. I didn’t have a choice in the matter, you know that! My father and your father– _they_ decided it. We can still…”

But whatever it was you and Loki could maintain never came. The look Loki shot you had the words dead on your lips. He didn’t flare up at you, but somehow, his cold anger was altogether worse. With his hands, he pushed yours away from him, and then shook his head.

“No, [Name]. You must choose. You cannot have both Thor and me. You either break off this engagement,” he sneered the word, “or we no longer have anything to speak about. What is your decision?”

You watched Loki for a long while, suddenly deaf to all the noise around you. Your heart thudded hollowly in your chest several times. Slowly, the look in Loki’s eyes softened, but not toward you. When he spoke again, his voice was almost raspy:

“Will you break it off?”

You yourself could barely speak around the lump in your throat. There you were at a party, but you weren’t having fun. No, you were too busy fighting off tears as you answered, “You know that I cannot.”

He looked away, down at his boots, for nearly half a minute. Then he looked up at you, swallowed, nodded, and got to his feet. “Then this is goodbye. Have fun at Thor’s party.”

And Loki strode off, leaving you more alone than you had ever been at the largest party Asgard had ever thrown.


	97. Surrender [Natasha Romanoff]

Natasha knew and understood torture like the back of her hand. Years on both sides of the event made her, for the most part, indifferent to its results.

Occasionally something still happened that bothered her.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” you screamed as you tried for the eighth time to rip apart the tie binding your wrists. “I already told you I don’t know!”

“Don’t lie to us!” Clint snapped, smashing his hands into the surface of the table. “You expect us to believe that you were carrying all of those goods, and you had no idea what they were going to be used for? Do you want another dose of electricity?”

“No, no!” You thrashed about harder still, but couldn’t escape. From her vantage point by the door, Natasha pursed her lips. Slowly, you stilled, hung your head, and started to sob. Large tears rolled off your nose and splashed onto the already-stained table. “They didn’t tell me. I just took the money. If they’d said…”

Clint’s fingers wandered over to the button. He looked as pale as Natasha felt, but it was part of the job, unpleasant as it was. His finger reached to press it. Upon seeing this, you stiffened.

“I don’t know! I promise! Please stop hurting me! I–I’ve told you everything I know!”

“Then why don’t you take that cyanide tablet? We can’t get any information out of someone that’s dead.”

“They didn’t give me one! I don't know anything!” you sobbed. Clint lifted his finger and watched as you doubled over as much as you could and began to bawl. “I don’t know why–what–who–they just…” When he was sure that you wouldn’t be looking at him, he raised his eyebrows at Natasha. She uncrossed her arms and looked about the room. She had to agree with Clint’s silent assessment: there wasn’t much left they could do. You were already starving, already broken. You had some pretty impressive loyalty if all the waterworks were just a show.

She took two steps forward and undid your wrists.

“That’s enough,” Natasha said.

Clint nodded. “Let’s get her back to base.”


	98. Only Hope [Thor Odinson]

Movie nights with Thor were just about your favorite part of dating him. Even before the movie and cuddling could begin, it was nice just to watch him go through your film collection. His enthusiasm was practically contagious, and that particular night was no different. You lounged on the couch, smiling, until he straightened with a grin.

“What is this _Star Wars_?” he asked as he held up an old VHS tape.

“Oh, that’s a classic!” You sat up a little and straightened the blanket draped over your knees. “It’s about a galaxy far, far away–”

“You mean like Asgard.”

“A bit like Asgard, I guess,” you answered with a laugh. “Is that the one you want to watch tonight?”

“Of course!” With long strides, Thor made his way to the video player and put the tape in. A moment later, and the movie night tradition of him tucking you underneath his chin and taking enormous handfuls of the four bags of popcorn you made was in full swing.

It was difficult to tell what Thor thought of the film at first. He watched it with the same serious demeanor that he did everything he saw for the first time. The face he made was actually a little cute–cute enough that you found yourself watching him more than the movie. Because of that, you were startled when Thor at last spoke.

“Those things they’re calling wookies,” he said around a mouthful of popcorn. “That is not their proper name. And they are quite able to speak English, or at least a form of it.”

It took you a moment to register what he was saying. When you did, you pushed yourself up and away from Thor’s chest so that you could get a better look at him. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” Thor said, completely serious as he stared down at you. That didn’t last long. Five seconds of eye contact later, maybe less, and then he laughed. “Yes.”

You smacked the side of his arm. “Thor!”

But he did not stop laughing immediately. “You should have seen the look on your face, [Name],” he said breathlessly. The scene played on as you waited for him to fall silent. When he finally did, your attempt at a cold demeanor clearly failed entirely.

“Are you done? Because you’re missing the movie.”

“I am done,” Thor assured you. And he was…at least until Leia and Han Solo kissed.

“Tell me, are you like this Leia?” Thor asked. “Do you like nice men?”

“Shouldn’t that be obvious by now?” you said sleepily. Thor’s grin widened as he leaned down to kiss you on the lips. “I’m dating the nicest man there is.”


	99. Want [Phil Coulson]

Phil went to his own funeral–disguised, of course. He technically wasn’t supposed to be there, seeing as how the corpse’s double appearing might arouse fear, if not suspicion. But try as he might in the days leading up to the ceremony, he couldn’t seem to get himself to stay away.

Director Fury wanted to know why Phil was suddenly showing such an interest in listening to a bunch of people praise him. That wasn’t why Phil wanted to go, however. And slowly his bland smiles and general indifference to the planning seemed to wear away at Director Fury’s stubborn insistence that Phil stay away. At last, he gave Phil permission to attend.

Not that certain limitations weren’t put into place. Looking as he did, Phil couldn’t exactly pretend to be a long lost relative or friend. He slipped in after the service started and simply watched, trying his hardest not to listen as person after person took the podium to reminisce about him.

But one person he couldn't ignore.

Maybe Phil should have cared what you planned to say about him after his death, but he didn’t. He just wanted to make sure that you were okay, that you were going to survive. Who knew when he’d be able to drop the charade, or if you’d accept him again if he did? As Tony Stark finished giving a typically bitter account of Phil’s interactions with him, Phil saw you stand up, and he knew immediately that you were not okay.

You couldn’t even get halfway through the story of your first date with him before you had to stop, voice choked away with tears. After a moment of the congregation awkwardly watching you cry silently in front of them, Maria got to her feet and led you away. The two of you brushed past Phil just before you exited.

He caught only a glimpse of your wet, red eyes, and knew that at the moment he had never wanted anything more than to hug you and tell you everything was going to be all right.


	100. Sometimes I Wish [Clint Barton]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, thank Heavens, we are DONE with this. There were way more embarrassing nuggets in here than I remembered. If I haven't put you off me completely, I'll be posting my third (and final...and unfinished) "Avengers" collection soon. I pretty much gave up writing drabbles, which makes them better, in my opinion. Not that shorter things can't be good. Just that MINE aren't. You'll see a couple new faces there, too, especially when I catch up on my "Harry Potter" collection and start work on it again! Also, I make it a point to stop ending things with dialogue and try to vary my sentence structures up more. We can really only go up from here. 
> 
> Thanks for struggling through this with me!

“Sometimes I wish you weren’t some big superhero so you could actually stay at home for a little while.”

Clint didn’t bother to look up at you after you voiced that opinion. Really, he couldn’t bear to. The longer he stayed with the Avengers, the less time he actually got to spend with his family. During those rare moments, like the one he was in, with his one-year-old son perched on his knees, blinking up at him, and his four-year-old daughter sitting on the lawn with the suction cup arrows he’d given her upon his arrival, Clint didn’t want to think about what he could be doing better.

But he couldn’t watch his children forever, and eventually he wrenched his gaze up to look at you. Unfortunately, seeing your frown and the red in your cheeks didn’t help him think of a solution. All Clint could manage was:

“Yeah.”

You snorted at that, which made him feel a little better. “I miss you. No idea why.”

“I miss you, too,” said Clint, and then kissed the top of his son’s head. “I miss _them_.”

He could tell by the look on your face that you wanted to ask why he kept doing it then: leaving for months at time, returning for only a couple of days, showing up at sporting events and dance recitals with black eyes and stitches on his forehead, only to disappear as soon as things were over. But you didn’t. You just looked away, which made Clint do the same.

The kids were growing up decently. He earned enough money at the very least. You were strong, and Clint knew that. How else were you supposed to handle him and two children? But he also knew that being that strong entitled you to show a little weakness every now and then. It would be a poor show if he told you to get over it, or that you were in the wrong.

While he was thinking this, Clint heard you stretch beside him. A moment later, and the little boy was lifted from his lap. “Bedtime,” you announced, and received several protests from your daughter. “No arguments. It’s nearly ten.”

You turned to walk back inside the house, and soon the light from the lamps enveloped you. Clint’s daughter remained until he got to his feet and gently shook her shoulder. “Hey, you better run along.”

“Are you still going to be here when I wake up, Daddy?”

“I…” Clint trailed away upon spotting a shadow moving back toward the patio. After he blinked, the dark shape materialized into you leaning against the door frame and waiting for him to answer. He forced his attention back to his daughter with a smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”


End file.
